


Rosemary by Your Garden Gate

by TheDragonofHouseMormont



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Violence, I just really wanted a witch fic, Practical Magic AU, and I love the Clara & Amy dynamic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonofHouseMormont/pseuds/TheDragonofHouseMormont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and Amelia Pond are the closest of sisters.  Raised by their aunts Sarah Jane and Donna, they belong to a powerful family of witches.  But their family carries a curse; an old prophecy predicts that one day a witch from their family would fall in love and that love would destroy time itself.  To prevent this prophecy from coming true, their ancestor Susan cast a spell that any person her descendants fell in love with would suffer an untimely death. (Practical Magic AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Curse of Susan Ravenwood

**[[Original Photoset](http://gwendolynnby.tumblr.com/post/135414392032/practical-magic-au-clara-and-amelia-pond-are-the)]**

 

Eleana Ravenwood Pond

Beloved Wife and Mother

Born

11th September 1960

Died

5th March 1992

That was all that was left of their mother.  Clara and Amelia held hands staring down at the words engraved on cold stone.  They could hear the chilly breeze blow through the grass and rustle the leaves above them, but they could not make themselves budge even for the wind.  In Clara's left hand she clutched to her chest her mother's childhood book of 101 Places to See; Amelia's right hand was wrapped around the rings hanging from a chain at her neck - their parents' wedding rings.  They had lost both parents in less than two months.

Hands fell upon their shoulders, startling them both, and they looked up to see their aunts Sarah Jane and Donna.  Their aunts didn't say a word, didn't need to, the girls new it was time.  Hands still linked, they turned around in unison and headed up to the black car waiting for them on the road.  The belongings they were allowed to keep were already packed away in the trunk.  The driver opened the door for them and they slid inside silently, casting a final glance at the two fresh graves.

One Month Later

"They say she could read it in the stars," Donna told them.  "That one day a Ravenwood witch would fall in love, but that love would be too fierce and unwavering, too powerful, that it would tear apart time itself and bring the universe to its knees.  Susan, fearing for what may become of her daughters and her daughters' daughters, sought a way to prevent this prophecy from ever coming true.  The only solution she could come across was to doom her children to suffer heartbreak, but even that seemed better to her than letting them destroy the world, so she cast a curse upon us all.  Any person who dared love a Ravenwood woman would die."

"You know," Sarah Jane cut into the story.  "The only curse on this family is sitting right there." She pointed at Donna and the girls laughed and took another bite of the brownies in front of them.

"The curse is real and you know it," Donna stated.

"Is not."

"Is too."

"What about my poor Lance?"

"Ah yes, _Poor Lance Bennett,"_ Sarah Jane said in a grave, mocking tone.  "He was an asshole and you got lucky."

"Can't argue with that one," Donna mumbled.  "But asshole or not it was the curse that killed him."

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes.  "It was his own foolishness that killed him."

"Mother died of a broken heart, didn't she?" Clara asked, already knowing the answer.

The aunts watched her and Amelia for a moment.  When the silence broke it was Sarah Jane who answered, "Yes, sweetheart, she did.  She loved your father very much."

"Was it because of the curse?" Amelia asked.

"Yes," Donna sighed.  "It was.  She heard the raven calling for him all that day.  She knew that when the raven finds you, the one you love is doomed to die."

That Night

"Wake up!" Amelia yelled as her sister thrashed around in her bed.  "Clara, wake up!"  She grabbed her shoulders and gave a quick shake.

Clara's eyes shot open in fright.  "What's going on?" she half-yelled, half-coughed out as she sat up in bed.

"You were having a nightmare," Amelia informed her.

Clara shook her head.  "I was dreaming of a face."

"Was it a scary face?"

"No.  But I felt afraid."

Amelia stared down at her sister, trying to work out what she could mean.  "What did it look like?"

Clara thought about it for a second.  "He had blue eyes.  I can't remember anything else."  She paused, looking up at the ceiling as she desperately tried to catch the dream that was all but gone.  "It was just a dream, I guess."

Unsatisfied, Amelia pressed on.  "But you said it wasn't the face that scared you.  What was scary, then?"

"I was scared of losing him," Clara answered without thinking, but she knew it was true.  "Like I said, it was just a dream."

Amelia smiled like she knew a secret, but in that moment they both heard a knocking coming from the front door downstairs.  She held her finger to her lips as a warning of silence and the two girls snuck down the three flights of stairs so they could look in on the ground floor.  Their aunts had just welcomed in a woman they both recognized from around town.

"I need him to leave his wife.  He has to leave his wife!" the woman hysterically declared.

They led her to sit down at the table.  As Sarah Jane briefly left the room, Donna spoke, "Perhaps you'll meet someone else.  Someone available and better suited to you."

Sarah Jane reentered the room with a large, old book in her arms.  The woman angrily responded to Donna.  "I don't want anyone else.  Why the hell else would I come here?!"

"Just take the money," Sarah Jane ordered without emotion.  Donna did as she said and quickly collected the bundle of cash from the woman's hand.  She slipped the cash in her pocket and stepped out into the adjoining greenhouse, returning a moment later with a live bird.  She and Sarah Jane read aloud from the book, but their words were too quiet for the girls to hear them.

Sarah Jane handed the woman a large needle from one side while Donna presented the bird on the other.  The woman took a deep breath before her lips quickly spilled out, "I want him to want me so much he can't stand it."  She pierced the needle straight through the bird's heart.

As the needle pushed into the bird, Sarah Jane looked up and caught the glances of her hiding nieces, but she didn't say anything.

"Be careful what you wish for," Donna warned so quietly it may as well have only been for herself as she pulled away the now-lifeless bird.

Mesmerized by the scene below them, Amelia declared, "I can't wait to fall in love."

"I hope I never do," Clara whispered in reply.

Eight Years Later

Clara and Amy sat at a round table just outside their school, their shoulders close enough to occasionally rub against each other.  Next to Amy sat their friends Rory and Martha, while Rose and Mickey sat next to Clara.  "You and Nina have been broken up for three months now," Martha said softly.  "You can't mourn that forever."

"But I really think I loved her," Clara sighed.

"Right," Amy said in disbelief.  "And that's why you broke up with her?"

"No," Clara said without meeting anyone's eye.  "I was scared because of the curse."

Amy almost laughed to reassure her sister when another group of students paused just a few feet from their table.  One of them pointed at the sisters and loudly began chanting, "Witch, witch, you're a bitch," until those around him joined in.

"Oi, stop it!" Rory yelled at them.  Rose stood up from the table, her faced stony and cold, and made like she would attack them.  The students stuttered in their chanting and took off running.

Amy was clutching a pen in her hand like she wanted to stab someone with it.  "You'd think that would've stopped after middle school, but apparently not."

Clara squeezed her sister's should as she looked at Rose.  "As much as I appreciate it, it isn't worth you getting in trouble trying to defend us."

Rose laughed and sat back down.  "Of course it is.  It's worth it just to see the look of fear on their faces."

"Don't worry about them," Mickey said in an assuring voice.  "They don't really hate you, your family's just a bit different."  It didn't sound that reassuring.

"What I  _think_ Mickey's trying to say," Martha cut in with a smile.  "Is they're idiots who will always walk around with their eyes closed.  Metaphorically speaking, that is.  They don't know what great friends they're missing out on."

At Martha's words, Amy finally relaxed and set the pen back down, her body losing its rigidity.

Three Years Later

"Babe, hurry up," Chase whispered loudly from the ground outside.  Only a few years ago he would have pointed at the Pond girls and taunted them; now he was running away with one of them.

In their bedroom Clara questioned her rushing sister.  "Do you really love him?  I mean, enough to marry him?"

"How much is enough?" Amy replied.  "Besides, I want to leave this place.  I hate it here."

Clara's heart broke at her words.  "You don't mean that."

Her sister's face softened.  "I just.  I don't want to get stuck here.  I want to see the world!  I want to go somewhere no one knows us or our family."

Clara glanced at 101 Places to See on her night stand before turning her attention back on Amy.  "I feel like I'm never going to see you again."

The words made Amy pause.  She unzipped a pocket on her bag and pulled out a knife.  "Here," was all she said before dragging the blade across the skin of her palm.  "My blood..."  She reached for Clara's hand which was then willing held out.  The blade pierced her skin as well.  "Your blood."  They held their palms together, fingers entwining.  "It'll always be you and me.  We'll see each other again.  We'll grow old together.  I bet we even die on the same day."

Clara's heart lightened a little at the words, but she still found it difficult to let go of her sister's hand. After a minute their palms separated and Amy hefted her bag over her shoulder, silently slipping out through the window and joining Chase on the ground.  Clara watched them disappear into the darkness together.

Ten Years Later

Dear Amelia,

I am just so happy.  This weekend Danny and I will be going to the show at Ashildr's preschool.  She's performing as Pumpkin #1 and I made her costume myself.  Her time at preschool has been great, but already she's looking forward to starting kindergarten in the fall.  Yesterday, Danny, Rose, and I took our students into Seattle to the aquarium and the whole day was so much fun.  Little Celeste has been doing wonderful, and by that I mean she sleeps through the night now; it's been three whole days since she last woke us up at 3 am.  Ashildr adores her little sister.

Really, it took so much work to get here, and we put more effort in every day, but I wake up every morning feeling blessed for the family I have.  I only wish you could be with us here more often.  Ashildr asks for you sometimes, but I just tell her that you're off seeing the world and you'll be back soon.  I hope you're as happy as I am.

Love,

Clara

P.S. I almost forgot to answer the question from your last letter.  Yes, I still have the dreams, but not as often as I used to and I barely remember them.

One Year Later

Clara looked up at the large, odd house through the car window as the vehicle slowed to a stop.  The driver got out and opened the door for them, but Ashildr was the only one to immediately hop out, her suitcase clutched tightly in one, tiny hand.  Clara took a deep breath and pulled Celeste into her arms before climbing out of the car.  When she looked up at the house again, Sarah Jane and Donna were running down the path to them, their faces full of sorrow.

She doesn't remember actually entering the house or carrying any luggage in, all she can hear in her head is the sound of that damned raven that had woken her up just a few mornings ago and taunted her throughout the day.

_"Pick up, pick up, pick up," she repeated to herself over and over, the phone held up to her ear.  Finally the line clicked through._

_"Clara?" Danny asked, knowing it was her on the phone but unable to guess the reason for her call._

_She took a deep breath, relieved that he was fine.  "Danny.  Can you come home now?"_

_"Come home?  I've just pulled up to the store right now.  We are out of pasta and I really wanted something with alfredo sauce tonight.  I'll be home right after."_

_"No," she said a little too harshly.  "You need to come home now."_

_At that he was concerned.  "Is everything okay?"_

_"I don't," she started.  "I'm not sure.  I hope so."  The raven stared at her through the window and she threw a pillow at it.  But the pillow just bounced off the glass and the raven went on staring, completely unfazed.  "I love you," she said quickly._

_"I love you too, Clara," he said without any of her worry._

_But then she heard tire screeches and loud voices.  With every strange, muffled sound that poured through the phone, Clara's heart beat faster, until a woman's voice spoke to her, "Hello?"  And the woman sounded like she'd just witnessed a tragedy._

Donna's hands enveloping her own woke Clara from her memories.  She slowly raised her eyes to meet her aunt's, but she did not say a word.  Donna opened her mouth several times, but any words failed to make themselves known.  Finally, it was Clara who spoke, her eyes cold as she pulled her hands free and stood up, "My daughters will never practice magic.  They will not be Ravenwood witches," she commanded, and she turned from the room, her feet carrying her unsteadily up the stairs.

She should have known better than to fall in love with Danny and marry him, but she'd tricked herself into thinking it would be okay, that somehow the curse would pass him up.  When she reached her old bedroom, she stared down at the scar on her hand, dragging her index finger across it and wishing for her sister.

In another bedroom, in another state, Amy stared down at her own palm and felt her sister's grief.

One More Year

He woke from the dream with a gasp and breathed heavily as his eyes adjusted to the dark of the motel room.  It was the same dream as always.  Well, not exactly the same dream - the dreams were never the same but they were always of the same person.  He quickly set his still-waking legs into standing and turned on the bedside lamp.  He pulled his journal up from the cheap, drawer-less desk and picked up the fountain pen resting beside it.  Flipping open to the next blank page, he began to sketch the face before it faded.  The wide, brown eyes - as sad as they've been for the past year - the little,turned up nose, and the dark brown hair.

Beneath the page were a hundred more sketches just like it.


	2. A Sister's Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene which portrays domestic abuse. If this is triggering to you in any way, please don't read this chapter.

Amy pushed open the door to the motel lobby and headed straight for what passed as breakfast in this cheap place.  As she poured orange juice into the tiny foam cup, she heard a voice call out to her from behind the front desk.  "Amy Pond?" the receptionist asked to get her attention.

She spun on the spot to face him.  "Yeah?"

"Got a letter for you."

Placing the cup down, she crossed the small room in two strides, laughing inwardly at the thought of how many more steps her sister would have to take.  Grabbing the letter from his waiting hand, she looked at the return address and saw it was from the very same person she was just thinking about.  "Thanks!" she smiled in an overly cheerful tone.  She tucked the letter into her back pocket and returned to the food.

Cup of orange juice in one hand a packaged pastry in the other, she stepped back out into the Arizona sun.  She thought about where she wanted to eat her breakfast and decided against returning to the room just yet.  Though she knew from experience that she could wolf down the small breakfast before Harry's intent and worshiping embrace enveloped her, if she wanted to read Clara's letter before lunch time, she best steer clear of him for now.

The thought of Harry's hands sent a shiver of excitement through her.  It was always the same yet it never felt repetitive; his hands would slowly sweep over ever inch of her body as if he was always relearning all her curves.  And every time he entered her it felt like a claim - one that she willingly sank into.  She felt wanted and it was good.  His devotion to her body was so complete that some nights she had to slip a little of Sarah Jane's belladonna so she could sleep enough and gain the energy she would need for their excursions the next day.

She took a sip of the orange juice and set the cup on a table next to the motel pool.  Falling down into a chair and tearing open the pastry, she took a bite.  She lifted off the chair a little and retrieved the letter.  Once out of its envelope, she held it in her left hand, the pastry in her right.

 

> My Dearest Amelia,
> 
> It's a full moon tonight and there's a circle around it - a sign of trouble not far behind.  It's been a full year since Danny died and already his love feels like a distant dream I've spent far too many mornings trying to grasp.  It's remnants are almost numbing in my veins and perhaps that is the worst part.  Ice doesn't feel cold anymore, not in the sharp way it used to.  Now it just feels dull.  Maybe it's selfish to want to feel again.  Maybe I should cling to the mourning.  But I miss the way a lover's eyes look in a dark room as they catch the moonlight drifting in through the window.  I want to feel my blood catch fire again.  I want a love that even time will lie down and be still for.
> 
> I had the dream again last night.  He was sitting in a chair, his hands working furiously to put something down on paper, his eyes filled with determined concentration.  But his features were soft, relaxed, like whatever he was working on was something completely natural to him.  Familiar.  Like he'd been doing it all his life.  His hair is gray, did I ever tell you that?  It didn't used to be, but now it is.  Gray and curly.  Sometimes I can almost convince myself that he's real.  But I've had my happiness.  There is no man, only that moon.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Clara

Amy folded the letter back up, set in the envelope, and tucked it in her back pocket once more.  Her breakfast was done but she didn't move, her eyes staring at the small ripples moving along the surface of the pool, but she didn't really see them.  Her palm stung a little and she didn't know if it was Clara calling out to her, or her who wanted to make contact.  Sometimes it was like that between them; their emotions could get so mixed up between the two of them that she couldn't pull them apart.

Harry would go looking for her soon, so she picked up the empty cup and plastic package, dropping them in the trash on her way back to the room.  She didn't even fit the key in the door before it swung open, Harry's eyes staring into hers with a manic passion.  He pulled her into the room, his mouth crashing down on hers.  She smiled against his lips and kissed him deeply.  When they separated for air he filled the space between them with words.  "What if I was president one day?"

"President Saxon," she smirked.  "A girl could get used to the sound of that."

"President of the world," he added, his lips on hers again.  "You.  And.  Me."  Each word was punctuated with kisses.  "We'd answer to no one.  They'd all have to answer to us."

Later, when she comes, it's with his name on her lips and the taste of power in her mouth.

~~~

The morning light stung Clara's eyes as she pushed herself out of bed and forced her legs to move.  There was the routine - shower, change, brush hair and teeth, eat at least something, grab bag, and head out the door.  Without that routine she was nothing.  She had to follow it or cease to exist altogether.

At the school Ashildr and Celeste both wrapped their arms around her waist, holding the embrace far longer than necessary like they feared she might slip through their fingers.  It was a knife to her heart that she'd scared them so much after their father died.  As they finally let go and held hands to walk down the hallway, Clara turned to head to her own classroom.  She didn't make it two steps before she heard the familiar, "Witch, witch, you're a bitch!"  She snapped around at the taunt and saw that this time it wasn't for her but for her daughters.

"Hey!" she yelled at the student, some boy she didn't immediately recognize.  He froze in place, realizing he'd been caught, but before Clara could reach them, Ashildr stuck her finger at him.

"I hope you get," there was a gasp as the students around them held their breath.  "Chicken pox!"

The boy looked properly terrified as Clara wrapped her arms around her eldest.  "She doesn't mean that," she said quickly.

"Yes, she did mom," Celeste unhelpfully provided.

Fortunately, at that moment Rose decided to show up.  "Mr. Cullen, I think it's time you headed to class," she ordered with all the coldness she used to exude as a teenager.  The boy nodded and took off down the hallway in a run.

Clara spun Ashildr around to face her.  "What did I say?  We do not used magic," she scolded.

"No,  _you_ don't use magic, mom."  She was crying.  "You probably couldn't even if you tried!"  Breaking free of her mother's grasp, Ashildr took her sister's hand again and disappeared amongst the students.

Rose placed a gentle hand on Clara's shoulder.  "Don't worry about it, she's just upset."

Clara smiled at her friend, but it didn't reach her eyes.  "How is it that I'm the mother, but you're the one who seems to know more?"

"Because sometimes it felt like I practically already had to raise my  _own_ mother."  She let the old joke sit between the two of them before changing the subject.  "I saw Martha this morning on the way here.  She said she was hoping we could make it over to her place tomorrow after work so she could have the seamstress measure us for the bridesmaids dresses."

The two of them fell into step as they walked.  "That should be good.  I am  _really_ looking forward to the wedding."  And the smile finally traveled its way up.

"It's nice to see them both so happy."

Clara thought for a moment before asking, her tone still playful, "Is it ever weird?"

"What, that Mickey and I used to date and now he's marrying Martha?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Strangely, no, it isn't."  The look on Rose's face was wistful.  "I don't know if it's because I'm with John or because we've all known each other so long, but it just feels natural.  Like this is the way it's always been and always should be."

~~~

Amy and Harry didn't just hold hands as they walked, their arms were entangled and her left side was pressing into his right with so much force it was impressive that she didn't throw them both off course.  "I could make better laws," Harry said.

"Babe, the president doesn't make laws."

He let go of her hand and moved away from her.  "Yeah, but we wouldn't have to answer to anyone, remember?  I could do what I want.  I could make a law if I wanted to."

"But remember that video?   _I'm just a bill,"_ she sang.  He started to laugh at her ridiculous impression.   _"Yes, I'm only a bill."_ When his fist hit her face, it was the last thing she had expected.  His laugh still carried on for a full second longer before she looked up at him, her hand clutching her left cheekbone which now ached and stung.   _What was that for?_ She wanted to ask, but the words never came.  All she could do was stare at him in confusion.

He grabbed her wrist roughly, pulling her arm down from her face and dragging her in the direction they'd been head, his grip so tight she knew it would bruise.  She tried to pull her hand away from him, but he only managed to somehow hold it tighter, walking faster so that all she could do was run to keep up.  When they made it back to their hotel room, her confusion finally ebbed and her whole being filled with fear.  She wanted to remain outside in the sun, but he pulled her through the door and slammed it shut behind them.

She didn't notice how Clara's letter had fallen from her back pocket and drifted down to the sidewalk below.

~~~

The bell had just rung for dismissal when Clara felt the pain in her palm.  There was no question, she knew exactly what she needed to do.  Everyday her daughters would walk from their classrooms on the other side of campus to hers, but this time she ran to meet them halfway.  She found them in the courtyard.  "Ashildr, Celeste, we're going to Mrs. Tyler's today."  Though unsure of what was happening, they followed their mother.

The three of them caught Rose just as she was locking her classroom door behind her.  When she saw them she could immediately tell something was wrong.  "Clara, what's going on?"

"It's Amy," Clara managed, out of breath.  "Can you please drop Ashildr and Celeste off at home?  I have to get to the airport."

"Now?"

"Yes, now.  I don't have time to pack or make plans.  I need to get there now.  Please?"

"Of course I will," Rose said, trying to sound reassuring.

"And let my aunts know where I'm going."

~~~

The sun was setting when he returned to his motel room.  He put the key in the lock when he saw something white in the corner of his eye.  Turning, he saw that it was an envelope lying on the ground.  He picked it up, his thumb passing briefly over the senders name.  He waited until he was in his room before he pulled the letter through the envelope's torn top.

He didn't know what it was that compelled him to read it.  The letter wasn't for him, he knew that, yet his eyes soaked up every word like they were hungry and only the swirling handwriting of a complete stranger confessing her emotions could feed them.  But there was something familiar about the words, like he should know exactly who wrote them.

And when he reads about the man with the curly gray hair, his hand brushes through his own curls and his fingers itch to put a face to the writer of this letter.  There is only one face he sees whenever he closes his eyes, but he thinks it can't possibly be her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry to set Amy up with the Master in this one, but he was the only character I could think of that was psychotic enough to fill the shoes of Jimmy Angelov.


	3. The Man Twice Dead

It was night when Clara arrived at the motel and found the door to her sister's room cracked open.  She knocked lightly on the door anyway, opening it, and stepped inside.  The room was pitch black, the curtains blocking any light from outside.  "Amy?" she whispered, but there was no response.  Hands in front of her, she carefully felt for the bed, following the length of it until her legs bumped into the night stand.  Her fingers slid up the lamp feeling for the small knob.  Twisting it, the room filled with a dim, yellow light.  There were various articles of clothing scattered across the bed and floor, and the small desk was covered in empty glass bottles.  Her sister was nowhere in sight.

Her eyes caught sight of the bathroom and she immediately rushed to it, not caring whose clothing she stepped on.  Twisting the handle a couple of times, she found it was locked.  "Amy?" she called out again, much louder this time.  She could hear a shuffle through the door and a moment later, the click of a lock being turned.  The door opened slowly, but no sooner had she seen Amy's face that she felt her arms wrap around her.

"Clara!"  The name fell from her lips like she thought she'd never say it again.

Clara's arms folded tightly over her sister's back, holding her closer.  "I'm here.  I"m here."  After a few seconds she reluctantly pushed Amy off her, but her hands immediately went to cup her face.  There was a thin cut across Amy's cheek and Clara's thumb swept underneath it, careful not to touch it.  "What happened?"

Anger flashed across Amy's eyes and she backed out of the hold.  "We were happy.  Were were just joking around and then he hit me.  Hit me real hard, the bastard."

Knowing that the anger wasn't directed at her, Clara approached her again.  "Let's get out of here, quickly."

Amy nodded and they both ran for the door.  Just as they stepped outside, Amy froze in her tracks, her eyes on the sky.  Clara followed her gaze up to the moon.  Before she could even ask what was wrong, Amy answered.  "Blood on the moon," she said with a gasp.  "Blood on the moon."  Her hands flew up to her neck, bu they didn't seem to find what they were looking for.  "Where's my tiger's eyes?"

Clara knew they didn't have time for this.  "We need to go," she said and began walking.  But Amy was running in the opposite direction.  "Where are you going?!"

"I need my tiger's eye," she repeated like Clara should know the answer already.  She ran directly for a small, well-used car and flung open the passenger, reaching for something inside.

"What kind of idiot leaves their car unlocked," Clara muttered under her breath, but then she saw a pair of hands grab her sister's long hair and pull her violently into the back seat.  "Amy!"  She was at the car in seconds, climbing in through the open door when she saw a man with a knife to her sister's neck.

"Drive," he said, his cold eyes locked on hers.

~~~

He had only just returned to his motel room when the sound of a struggle outside drew him to the window.  He could see something was happening in one of the parked cars, but it was too dark to see exactly what was happening.  The next second a woman ran to the car, kneeling in.

It was dark, he couldn't make out all her features, but as she slowly got out of the car and made her way to the driver's seat, he could easily see her hair and make out the shape of her face.  It was  _her._ It had to be.

By the time he was out the door, the car was already driving off.  Disappointed, he walked back to his room and sat down at the desk.  But his eyes fell on the letter he'd found that day and he began to formulate a plan.  Tomorrow he would make his way to Washington state.

~~~

His name was Harold Saxon and in her fear, Clara did exactly what he said.  With her sister in his hold, she drove the car long into the night.  He drank tequila from a bottle while keeping an arm around Amy's neck at all times.  "What if," he said quite seriously despite how much he'd already had to drink.  "When we die we're still conscious?  What if we can still feel everything?  We could feel cold, we could the embalming process.  Even decades later we could feel the tree roots entering the casket."  He looked up at the review mirror to catch Clara's eye like he was having a conversation with her.  Though she met his reflected gaze, she refused to say anything.  Apparently, he didn't need someone else to hold a conversation, because he just kept talking.  "God, can you imagine what cremation would be like?"  The tequila was no longer in his hand, but instead there was a lighter that he briefly flicked to life.

Next it was Amy who met Clara's gaze in the mirror and though she didn't actually say anything, Clara still knew what she was telling her.  She let her hand be led by the scar that connects them.  It reached under the seat before closing around a small vial.  A quick shake and a knowledge of her sister's habits told her exactly what it was.   _Belladonna._

When she looked back up in the mirror it was to the sight of Amy leaning forward, forced into an awkward position by Harold's left arm.  His left had held a large, silver ring while his right hand flicked the lighter active again.  "And the worst part is, you couldn't tell anyone because you're dead!  You would just be burning alive - well, not  _alive_ exactly, but you know what I mean."  He held the ring in the flame for several seconds before closing the lighter and dropping it.  "That must really hurt," he said as he brought the ring near Amy's face.

Clara snapped, swerving the car and paying no attention to the road.  As her sister struggled, she reached back and slapped the ring out of his hand.  "That's enough, you bastard!"  His expression was both one of amusement and frustration.  "You sick, death obsessed freak!"  She reached back again and grabbed the bottle of tequila.  "Give me that!" she yelled like she needed a drink to deal with him.  She took a quick smile to keep up the pretense before lowering the bottle into her lap and out of his sight.

"You know," he smiled.  "I'm feeling very into sisters right now."  Clara ignored him and quickly dumped belladonna into the bottle before returning it to his outstretched hand.

Twenty minutes later they were pulled over at the side of the road, Clara and Amy waiting in the car while Harry stood outside pissing into a bush.  He was twirling the car keys in one hand while loudly singing some song Clara vaguely recognized.   _"Little things I should have said and done, I just never took the time.  But you were always on my mind.  You were always on my mind!"_

"It should have worked by now," Amy said, frustrated.  "You didn't give him enough."

"I gave him plenty," Clara responded, but she wondered for a moment if she really had.

Their conversation was interrupted by Harry stumbling drunkenly back to the car.  He crawled into the back seat, but instead of sitting down again so they could drive, he lunged at Amy and wrapped both hands around her neck.  "Don't struggle," he ordered.

Amy hit him repeatedly but he seemed completely unfazed.  Clara was already outside, reaching in through his open door and trying to pry him off her sister.  Amy's punches were starting to get weaker when all of a sudden she took a deep breath and Harry slumped over her.  "He's stopped," Amy gasped.  She tried to push him off her but then she saw his wide open, dead eyes and screamed, letting him fall back on her.

"What is it?" Clara asked, frightened, and she pulled him up again, using all her strength to drag him out of the car.  When his limp body hit the ground, she saw exactly what had gone wrong.

"He's dead!" Amy shrieked as she scrambled into sitting position.

Clara buried her face in both her hands.  "No, he can't be."

"How much did you give him?"

"I don't know, Amy!  I didn't have a measuring spoon!"  Clara started pacing.

Amy got out of the car and followed her sister.  "This is all my fault.  I've been giving him that stuff for ages, it probably built up in his system or something, and whatever you gave him must have been the last straw."

Clara shook her head.  "It doesn't matter.  My life is over.  I have two children, I can't go to prison!  We need to call the police, tell them it was self defense."

"Oh yeah," Amy said sarcastically.  "They'll definitely believe that good ol' slowly-poisoning-to-death self defense."  She paused for a moment and then bent over, clutching her stomach.  "Oh god, I killed someone."

"We  _both_ did, Amy.  We're going to prison!"

When Amy realized she wasn't actually going to throw up, she leaned against the car.  "We need to fix this," she said thoughtfully.

"He's dead!  You don't come back from that!"

"Unless," Amy whispered.  "The spell."

Clara didn't need any clarification.  She knew exactly the spell Amy was referring to it.  She found if first when their parents died and returned to it when Danny died, but she knew better than to ever attempt it.  "You know we can't use that spell!  I wouldn't even use it to bring my  _husband_ back, we can't use it on him."

"We don't have a choice!  I don't want to go to prison, and I _really_ don't want you to go to prison for  _my_ mistakes."

"You don't understand, if we used that spell to bring him back, it wouldn't be Harry.  He would come back as something dark and unnatural."

"Harry already is dark and unnatural!"  Amy walked to her sister and placed both hands on her shoulders.  "We don't have a choice, this is our only option."  She said it with calmness and clarity in her eyes that defied the situation, and so Clara nodded slowly in agreement.

If Clara had ever considered before how terrifying it would be to drive through three states with a dead body in the trunk, she would have underestimated it.  After the first day she and Amy tried to strike casual conversations, but every time their thoughts would drift back to their secret and they would only stare out the window, so reaching the aunt's house in the middle of the night was an absolute relief to both of them - like waking up from a nightmare.  But their nightmare wasn't quite over yet.

They hauled Harry's body and dropped him on the kitchen table.  "Are the aunts here?" Amy asked.

Clara looked at the calendar on the fridge and found that particular weekend marked.  She shook her head, "They're at a festival."

Amy took a deep breath.  "Good, I don't want them involved."

Clara grabbed the Ravenwood spell book and flipped open to the dreaded page.  "This is a terrible idea," she whispered.  She followed the instructions.  "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw.  Insert needles through eyes of corpse."

Amy shuddered.  "Through the eyes?"

"Yes, through the eyes," Clara confirmed.  Amy nodded and shut her own eyes as she did so, her face overcome with disgust.  Clara continued, "I need something white that I can use to write on his chest."

They both paused for a split second before Amy jumped up and ran for the fridge.  She returned a moment later with a can of whipped cream.  "This is all I could think of."

Clara smiled and her eyes lit up.  "That's brilliant!"  She snatched the can from her sister and used to it draw a star on his chest, flicking her finger through the whipped cream last minute and eating it.  "Okay, now we have to say 'Black as night... erase death from our sight.'"  Amy repeated it.  "'White as light, mighty Hecate make it right.'"  They each grabbed one of Harry's arms and repeated the two lines over and over.

After a full minute Amy looked down and saw his eyes open, but they were still the watery eyes of a corpse.  Her voice faded away beneath her sister's until Clara noticed and stopped as well.  They both stared at Harry as he stared back at them.  "It worked," Amy whispered.

But then Harry was off the table, his hands wrapped around her neck just as they had been the moment he died.  "I want you to be my wife!" he yelled as they both slammed into the counter behind her.  "Death did us part, I want you to be my wife!"

Clara grabbed the first thing her hand closed around without looking to see what it was and she ran to them, her hand raising to swing whatever it was at him.  It was already too late when she realized it was a knife that she had just thrust into his back.  His hands went limp around Amy's neck and he collapsed to the floor.  Clara staggered back, staring at what she'd done.

"Oh god," Amy gasped.  "Poisoning and now stabbing.  This has actually gotten worse."

Clara took a deep breath.  "Okay, we need to do something.  Bringing him back from the dead is obviously a terrible option and we'd have to have a death wish to try it again."

"So he needs to stay dead and we need to make sure no one finds out about this.  No one can find the body."

"The garden," Clara said thoughtfully.  "We'll bury him in the garden."

They reached down to grab his body and hoist him up again.  "What about the knife?"

"Leave it," Clara said with disgust.  "I don't want my family eating anything that's been cut by the knife that slid through your dead, evil boyfriend."

They dragged him outside to the dormant rose bushes and Clara ran to get the shovels, returning a couple of minutes later.  She tossed one to Amy and they began by carefully removing the layer of grass before digging until they were both standing in a Harry-sized hole that went up to Amy's shoulders.  Amy climbed out of the hole and reached back, helping to pull her sister up.  They laid on the grass, damp from the Washington mist, and stared up at the night sky above them, breathing heavily.  After several moments they stood back up and rolled Harry's body into the grave, shoveling the dirt back in and carefully placing the grass back on top, pressing it flat into the ground so it almost looked undisturbed.

Amy looked down at her sister before pulling her into a hug.  "Thank you," she muttered into her ear.  Clara squeezed her tighter.  "What do we tell the aunts?"

"Nothing," Clara answered.  "We don't involve anyone else."


	4. The Arrival

The slam of a car door closing woke Amy from her sleep.  She sat up quickly and rushed to the window, looking down at the ground far below.  Where the end of the path met the road, there was a black car and emerging from it were the figures of her aunts and nieces, barely discernible at this distance.  She ran to her sister's room but opened the door to find it empty.  Running down the several flights of stairs, not caring that she was still in her night gown, she reached the ground floor to see Clara already up and dressed in the kitchen pouring hot water from the kettle and into a cup.

Clara looked up and saw her standing in the doorway of the kitchen.  "I didn't want to wake you up, figured you needed your sleep."  She held the kettle up.  "Tea?"

Amy smiled at the domesticity of it all, happy to be part of a family once more.  "Yes please."  As Clara busied herself with getting another mug and tea bag, Amy informed her, "They're here!"

Clara spun around, her smile bigger than Amy remembered ever seeing it.  "I know!  They'll be so happy to see you.  Celeste especially; she's always asking for you."

"Yeah, right, she barely knows me."  Celeste was so young and Amy had missed so much.

Clara nodded as she poured hot water into the second mug.  "Really.  She remembers you well enough, apparently, because I'm being completely honest."  She handed Amy the second mug and they both walked into the entrance just as the front door was opening.

"Mom!" the two girls yelled as they walked in the door, dropping their bags as they rushed their mother and wrapped their arms around her.  Celeste was still so small her arms just made it around Clara's thighs.  "We danced naked under the full moon!"

Amy snorted and the girls looked up at her.  "Hey," she said meekly, hoping they'd remember her enough to know who she is.

"Aunt Amy!" they shouted, and they were around her in an instant, embracing her in the same way they did Clara.  "You're back," Ashildr declared.

"I'm back," Amy confirmed softly.  She looked up and saw her aunts standing in the room and smiling at her fondly.  They approached her carefully.

Reaching over the children without disturbing them, Sarah Jane cupped Amy's face, looking at the cut on her cheek.  "Some chamomile or witch hazel will take care of that," she said, and Amy knew what she was really saying was  _don't worry, you'll be okay._

She smiled in return, not knowing what else she could give in thanks, when Donna replaced her sister in welcoming her.  "Don't worry, dear," she said with both confidence and warmth.  "He'll get what's coming to him."

This time Amy had to force herself to smile, to keep herself from saying  _he already did._ She and Clara had agreed that they wouldn't tell anyone what had happened to Harry.  She looked back down at her nieces.  "Come on girls," she said, prying them from her body.  "You should go put your stuff up."

Clara, still standing in the corner of the room waiting, smiled.  "Your aunt's right.  Come on, take your bags up stairs!"  They picked up their forgotten belongings and skipped up the steps to the rooms above.

"How long will you be staying?" Donna asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Amy sighed.  "I haven't really thought about it, I suppose.  I just, I needed to get out."

"I understand, dear."  Donna put a hand on Amy's shoulder.

"You wouldn't mind if I moved back here for a little while, would you?"

"Of course not.  You know full well that you're welcome back any time and that there's far too much room in this house as it is.  And your sister will be glad of it, you need each other."

Donna left them in the room together, joining Sarah Jane in the greenhouse.  Amy stepped toward her sister, relief flooding her bones.  "I guess I'm home."

Clara nodded.  "Yeah, you are.  What do you think you'll do while you're here?"

"Maybe I'll get my old job back," Amy playfully suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Her sister laughed, taking the bait.  "You  _cannot_ go back to being a kissogram!"

~~~

"Amy!" Martha's voice rang out from down the street.  Rose turned around and saw the approaching sisters.  They barely reached their waiting friends in front of the dress shop before Martha pulled Amy into a hug.

Amy's arms immediately wrapped around her friend's back.  "You're getting married," she exclaimed.  "Congratulations!"

Martha pulled back, her hands sliding along to grasp Amy's.  "And you'll definitely be here for the wedding?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Maybe it's not too late," Rose said, but Amy had no idea what she was referring to.

Rose's eyes were fixed on Martha who gave a look in response that said she knew exactly what Rose was talking back.  "Maybe it isn't."

Amy couldn't take it.  "It isn't too late for what?"

Martha turned her attention back to her.  "What Rose means is, since Clara is here to get measured for her bridesmaid's dress, maybe you should be measured as well."

"Oh," Amy wasn't expecting that.

"You've been gone for a long time, but I never really stopped counting you among my best friends.  What do you say?"

"I," she was stunned.  "I'd love to."

"Well," Clara said happily.  "That's settled then."  She took Amy's hand and pulled her into the dress shop, Rose and Martha following quickly behind.

Amy had never been measured for a dress in her life and she decided the experience was an awkward, but at least a relatively quick one.  Clara was measured and they were told they would get a call in a few weeks to come in for a fitting.

"So who's hungry?" Rose asked.

"I'm starving," Amy answered honestly, finally feeling a little comfortable in the presence of her friends again.

They settled on a diner across the street, Clara having refused to eat Italian for some reason that no one seemed willing to bring up.  The sun was beginning to set as they made their way to the diner and a chill was starting to set in.  It was never warm this time of the year, but Amy had been away so long that she wasn't used to the cold anymore.

They ordered and sat down in a booth together before Clara mumbled, "I have to go to the bathroom," and stood up, walking to the back of the diner where the restrooms were.  Something about her seemed off and Amy tried to think of what it was, apart from, of course, the crime they had so recently committed.

~~~

The bus pulled into the small transit center and stopped, the driver not even bothering to announce the destination as it was the final one on the route.  He grabbed his bag and stepped off the bus to be greeted with gray skies and a brisk chill.  What he'd seen of the town as the bus drove through was small, but peaceful.  A quiet isolation.

Now that he was here, he had a moment to reflect on how hastily the decision to travel this far had been.  He'd been making his way slowly across the United States, but he'd never skipped over so much distance so quickly, and especially with as little planning.  He'd felt compelled to come here, bought a bus ticket that would take him part of the way, and continued with there.  So now that he was in town, he needed to find a place to stay quickly, hoping that whatever this town had to offer in terms of accommodation wasn't already booked up.  But his first priority had to be to find some food.

A few blocks down the street he came across a diner and decided it would be as good a place as any.  He stepped inside and the place was nearly empty.  There was one person sitting at the bar and three woman sitting in a booth.  He took a seat at the bar and grabbed one of the standing menus.  "Would you like anything to drink, sir?" a waitress from behind the counter asked him.

"Do you have any tea?"

"Mhm."

"What kind?"

"I don't know," she replied.  "Just tea."

He paused, having to think that one through.  "Uh, I'll have some tea then."  He heard a door close behind him and spun in his seat on instinct.  "You!" he said, recognizing the dark hair and wide, brown eyes instantly.  He hopped off the seat and cautiously stepped toward her.

"Me?" she asked, confused, though she did not take her eyes from his face.

He quickly realized how strange he must seem and tried to cover it up.  "Sorry, you look familiar.  Have we met before?"  He knew what the answer would be, he'd never met this woman in his life.

"I don't think so," she answered, but he caught the near-imperceptible tilt of her head, almost like she was nodding.  He feared that would be the end of the conversation and that his mad search would end in an awkward exchange, but then she asked him, "Are you a visitor?"

"Yeah, travelling the US," his hand brushed through his curls in both nervousness and relief.  "Something about this town seemed interesting," and he knew exactly what that something was.  "So I decided stay here a few days."

"A few days?"  Was that disappointment in her voice?  This whole situation made absolutely no sense.

"Well, I'm not sure how much there is to do here."

"It's a beautiful town," she smiled.  "But you might not be wrong about that."

"Hey, Clara!" one of the women from the booth shouted.  "Why don't you introduce us to your friend?"

~~~

Hearing her name pulled Clara from her thoughts.  How could the very man she'd dreamed of all her life be standing right in front of her?  How could he even be real?  She smiled apologetically at the man, "Sorry, that's my friend Martha."

"By all means," he gestured toward the table and for a moment she thought he was dismissing her, but then he backed in the direction of her table, clearing meaning to join her there just as Martha had suggested.  Whatever was happening, at least he didn't seem intent on ending this strange discussion.

Clara returned to the table, taking her seat next to Rose.  Across from her, Martha and Amy scooted over to make room for the newcomer.  "So, what's your name?" Amy asked, and until that point Clara hadn't even realized that she didn't know.

"The Doctor," he responded, a small smile fighting its way onto his face like he was enjoying some private joke.

"Doctor what?"  The question came from Rose.

"Just the Doctor."

"You must have a name," Clara said.

"I do, but I'm not fond of it."  The waitress brought his tea to him and he set it down, waiting for it to cool.

"And you're from Scotland?" she continued her inquiry.

"I am, but I live in London."

"What are you doing all the way over here?"  Martha leaned on Amy's shoulder to ask the question.

"I'm on sabbatical from the university."

"Oh, so you're a professor," Rose said.

"Yes, history," he answered the unvoiced question.  Clara leaned in, wanting to know more.  "I specialize in the history of the supernatural and its influence on general events."

"That sounds really interesting," Clara said, and she meant it.

"It is!"  He was smiling.  "Most people don't realize that the majority of the records we have on witches are false because accounts were often given under torture and interrogation.  Someone would be accused of being a witch and then would be tortured until they confessed to being one, whether it was true or not.  For a true history of witchcraft we have to sort the false accounts from the true ones and look for records that were obtained under conditions that merit honesty."

"Well, you came to the right place," Rose remarked, laughing.  Clara heard her sharp intake of breath and saw her flinch in her periphery and assumed that either Martha or Amy had kicked her under the table.

The Doctor's eyes never left Clara's face.  "Have I?" he asked, intrigued.

Clara tried to cover up her friend's slip.  "She just means that this town has... an interesting history.  But I'm sure lots of towns do.  Rumors and stuff, you know."

"Some do, but it'd be interesting to check out.  Perhaps you could show me to a museum or a visitor's center."

"Yes," Clara swallowed.  "Perhaps."  She couldn't believe this was happening; a man who shouldn't even exist suddenly did and was about to find out all of her secrets far sooner than she would have liked.

"How long are you staying?" Amy asked.

"I don't know."  His answer had changed in the last few minutes and Clara didn't know how to take that.  "Which reminds me, I need to find someplace to stay.  I didn't book anything."

"There's a hotel upstairs, actually," Martha supplied.  "Once you leave the diner, take a right and the door immediately next to the entrance is for the hotel.  You just go up the stairs and the lobby is up there.  This is the off season so rooms are pretty cheap."

"Thank you," he said to Martha before returning his attention to Clara.  "Could you maybe show me around tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she agreed.

~~~

It was nearly time for dinner when Clara heard a knock at the door.  They weren't expecting anyone that evening so she shuffled over to the door in confusion.  She opened it to find Mickey standing on their doorstep.  "I thought you were at work."

"I am," he sighed.  "I'm here on business.  We just got a call at the station about a missing person.  Is Amy available?  I just have to ask her a few questions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no way I could ever imagine Twelve being a cop, so Mickey got that role instead.  
> I lived in WA for four years and I love the fact that they filmed Practical Magic there. The waitress being confused when the Doctor asked about tea is an actual experience that I've had in WA, and there really was a hotel above that restaurant.


	5. Look to the Past

The knife chopped its way through the last carrot when Amy looked up at the sound of her sister rushing into the room.  "Mickey's here," Clara exclaimed before grabbing Amy's arm almost too roughly and speaking quickly in hushed tones.  "He's here to ask you about Harry, I can tell."  Both aunts watched them suspiciously from opposite sides of the kitchen.

"Shit, shit, shit," Amy uttered as the knife dropped from her hand and onto the cutting board.  "What are we going to do?"

"We need a story now, and we stick to it," her sister provided.

"Right," her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with something plausible.  "It's simple - he hit me and I left him.  I haven't seen him since."  Clara nodded and pulled her by the arm out into the hall where Mickey was waiting.  "Mickey!" Amy called out at the sight of him, her smile wide.  He was still her friend, despite the circumstances.  Despite the fact that she was about to lie to him.  "What did you need?"

Mickey smiled back, striding easily to her, but his eyes flickered to the way Clara's hand momentarily tensed on her arm.  "Martha told me you were back," he opened his arms and Amy pulled free from her sister's grasp to envelope him in a hug.  "It's great to see you."

"I can't wait for the wedding," Amy said as they parted.

"Imagine how I feel," he joked.  "But unfortunately, I'm not here to discuss our personal lives.  Phoenix PD have been trying to locate you.  They're hoping you might be able to shed some light on the disappearance of Harold Saxon.  Apparently you two are a couple."

"Harry's missing?" she asked, playing up the innocence.  "And no, we're not a couple.  I broke up with him a four days ago."

"That's about the time he went missing.  May I ask why you ended things?"

"He wasn't a nice person," she pointed at the healing cut on her face as proof.  "I'm surprised anyone liked him well enough to report him missing."

"He hasn't been.  Phoenix PD has been watching him for some time as part of an ongoing case.  They suspect he's involved in the murder of a woman named Lucy Cole, but they haven't been able to connect him to it.  When did you last see him?"

Amy held her hands together in front of her, trying to keep them from shaking.  "Four days ago, when we broke up.  I immediately came back here."

Mickey nodded.  "And how did you travel back?"

"Clara drove me."  The sister's eyes met.

"Yes," Clara continued the story.  "She freaked out when he hit her and called me.  I flew down immediately and then brought her back up here."

Mickey stared at them like he was waiting for them to say something more.  "Right.  I noticed a car in the driveway when I walked up to your front door.  Arizona plates, number 2-2-9 M-O-B.  Phoenix sent me a file.  I happen to know that car is registered to Harold Saxon."

"Of course," Clara said a little too quickly.  "It's his car.  We stole it to drive back here.  It's a crime, I know, and we would love to return it, but we really have no idea where he is."

"Dinner's almost ready.  Would you like some?" Amy abruptly offered, trying to force normalcy and familiarity into the room.

Mickey back to the door almost like he was being cornered.  "No thank you."  He turned the door knob, but before he opened it he looked back at her.  "Ms. Cole - she was found on the side of the road.  She had been strangled and her face was branded.  If you have any information regarding his whereabouts, please let me know."

Amy nodded, unsure how else to respond, and watched as the door fell closed behind him.

~~~

The seconds ticked away on the wall and Clara almost felt like one of her students as she watched it.  They were reading silently with a list of questions to answer before the class discussion tomorrow, and she was meant to be using this time to get some grading done, but she couldn't keep her thoughts under control.  A week ago her life had been boring, the only exciting thing being the upcoming wedding of two of her oldest friends.  Now she had killed someone and lied to one of those friends.  Not to mention the man from her dreams who shouldn't exist, that she was meeting in under an hour.

She'd spent all day considering cancelling on him.  She didn't have his number, but she could call the hotel he was staying at and leave a message.  It was tempting, she had enough going on in her life and didn't need this mystery, but ultimately her curiosity won out.  This was a mystery she'd been unknowingly waiting her whole life to solve, dreaming of a man she didn't even know, she couldn't pretend that wasn't significant for some reason, not with her family.

And why did his interests have to be so specific?  It would be easier if he was more interested in math or beekeeping.  Her family wasn't a secret in this town, not when Sarah Jane and Donna provided services as often as Clara and her sister - and now her daughters - were ridiculed.   _It's just because we're different,_ she could remember Donna telling her several times throughout her life.

The bell rang and her students closed their books, stuffing them into their backpacks and several conversations began popping up all over the room.  "Finish those questions," Clara called over the rising volume.  "I'll see you all tomorrow."  As the room was vacated, she slid her unfinished work into her bag and headed for the door, turning off the lights.

Ashildr and Celeste met her at the car as she had told them to.  They were halfway home when Celeste spoke.  "Where are you going, mommy?"

Despite the lack of specificity, Clara understood what her daughter was referring to.  "I just have to meet someone in town this afternoon."

"Yeah, but who?" Ashildr asked.

"Just a professor," she replied.  "A visiting professor.  I have to show him around; it's nothing important."  She pulled into the driveway and her daughters hopped out; but as Celeste walked quickly to the front door, she noticed Ashildr standing still and staring in the direction of the garden.  "Ashildr, what is it?"  Her daughter just shook her head and remained silent.  As she began to turn away from whatever it was that held her attention, Clara quickly followed her line of sight and saw that she was staring at the rose bushes.  A shiver ran down her body as she immediately turned her attention back to her daughter.  "Don't forget to do your homework.  We'll go over it when I get back."  Ashildr only nodded and headed inside.

As she pulled out of the driveway once more, she chanced another look at the roses.  It was probably nothing.  Just a coincidence.

By the time she parked her car at the diner, the Doctor was already standing outside waiting.  "Sorry I'm late," she said as she approached him.

"Actually, I think you're right on time.  I was just early."  He smiled at her, but she couldn't tell anything from it.  "So, where are we going?"

"We have a small museum here in town.  It covers the history of this area.  Thought you might be interested."  And it had exactly what he was looking for, she only hoped he wouldn't make any connections.

"Sounds great."  His smile got wider and she gestured in the direction of the museum.  They walked side by side, never touching, but with very little space between them.

The museum itself was a small, old, colonial style building.  When they stepped inside, the first thing to hit her was the warmth of the heater and she immediately pulled off her coat, hanging it on a rack and walking up to the front desk.  The museum didn't cost anything, it ran on donations, but there were brochures that worked as guides and gave extra information.  "I didn't expect to see  _you_ in here, Ms. Ravenwood," the woman behind the counter sneered at her.

"It's Pond.  I have my father's name, which I'm sure you are very aware of."  She glanced back at the Doctor who was still hanging his coat up, and hoped he hadn't caught anything.  "Just one please.  It's for him."  She'd been to this museum enough times on field trips as a kid that she already knew everything those brochures could tell her.

"Here you go," the woman handed her one, a look of contempt still on her face.  "Have fun."

Clara walked back to the Doctor and handed him the brochure.  "Ready?"

The first part of the museum was about the tribes that have lived on the island far longer than the European descendants, which the Doctor took great interest in, and the second part delved into the arrival of the settlers, which he took far less interest in.  The museum soon past into the forming of the town before they came to a small wall of text with a painting of a black cat and an actual broomstick leaning in the corner.  The title above the text read 'Witchcraft: Fact or Folklore?'

"Like I said," Clara began talking, slowly trying to distance herself from the wall.  "Rumors.  This town likes passing them about."

"Most towns don't display rumors of witchcraft so proudly in their museum," he responded.

"Well, this town is an odd mix of pride and contempt when it comes to its strange history."

He barely seemed to notice her statement as he read the text in front of him.  She knew it well; it told of the witch, her ancestor, Susan Ravenwood fleeing Massachusetts with her family during the trials at the end of the 1600s.  Over time her children and grandchildren slowly made their way west until a woman named Victoria Ravenwood, who fancied herself a bit of an adventurer, made her way through the Pacific Northwest in the 1840s, becoming one of the original founders of the town.  Through the years the Ravenwoods offered the services to the townspeople who would turn to them for help with various personal problems.

Clara knew what the wall didn't say as well, that magic doesn't always work the way you want it to and often the town would blame them for any unexpected consequences of their work.  But that's the way it was, she supposed, when you could do something other people couldn't.

The Doctor straightened his back as he finished reading, turning to look at her.  "The receptionist called you Ravenwood."

"Yes, but that's not my name.  My name is Pond—"

"Your father's name, I heard."  He paused, searching her face.  "Is this your family?" he asked, pointing at the wall.

She stared at him, trying to come up with an answer.   _Rumors,_ she wanted to say, but she couldn't make her mouth work.

"I'm just curious," he said.  "I've met with a lot of people over the years with records from their ancestors who played the role of town witch - journals, spellbooks, things like that - that give us insight into their practices, but I've never seen a town whose beliefs carried on into such recent history."

She still couldn't say anything, afraid that if she opened her mouth she reveal just how recent those beliefs continued to stand.  For some reason she couldn't make a single lie come to her and it was frustrating.

"Is this your family?" he repeated.

She swallowed hard before finally nodding.  "It's—"  _not what you think?  Just a story?_ She couldn't make any of the lies come out.

"Can I ask you about your family?  Do you have any old journals or anything?"

She thought of the book her aunts still put to use regularly, of the spell she so recently cast with her sister and what came of it.  Her stomach twisted in knots and she felt sick.  "I'm sorry, I have to go."  She walked as quickly as she could back through the museum.

"Wait!" he shouted behind her, but she didn't stay to hear what it was he wanted to say.

~~~

Amy stood in the aisle, list in hand as she stared at the bags of flower in front of her.  The Ravenwood house was pretty self-sufficient; they had a garden for vegetables, several apple trees, large blackberry bushes throughout the property, and a large greenhouse with filled with herbs, blueberries, and strawberries.  They also had a chicken coop that gave them a steady supply of eggs.  But that of course didn't cover everything, so the aunts had sent her into town to collect a few things, namely more flower and cocoa powder so they could make some more brownies.

Amy hadn't baked since she'd left in the middle of the night when she was eighteen, so the experience of shopping for such items felt pretty new to her.  She finally decided on a bag of flour and dropped it into her basket.  "Amy?" she heard someone ask.

She spun in the direction of the voice and spotted a familiar face.  "If it isn't Rory Williams."

"Martha told me you were back," he said as he pulled her into a hug.  She wrapped the arm that wasn't carrying a basket around his back.

"You both work at the hospital, right?"

"That's correct," he smiled at her as his arms dropped back down to his sides.

"You both became doctors, that's incredible."  She thought back on her own recent history and felt infinitely inferior.

"What have you been up to?"  Of course he would ask that.

"Not much," she admitted.  "Sort of moving about.  Figured it was time to come back home."

"I'm glad," he said.

Silence fell upon them and Amy stared at him as he stared back.  "I should probably get back."  She held the basket up.  "Don't want to keep my aunts waiting."

"Of course."  He backed several steps away from her.

She stared walking down the aisle before deciding to look back at him.  "Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"We should catch up.  Maybe you can come over tomorrow, have dinner with us."

"I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is posting later today than I'd hoped. I got distracted watching Jessica Jones.  
> Next chapter will feature more of the aunts, growing suspicions, the Doctor's continued interest in the Ravenwood family, and a little too much tequila.


	6. An Unwanted Guest

Amy stared down at a section of the vegetable garden from the window in her bedroom.  It was seven in the morning and she'd rather just crawl back into bed, but the sounds of her nieces and sister getting ready kept her from sleep.  She pulled on a sweater to ward against the chilly morning, and headed down the stairs.  She met Celeste on the second floor and followed her into the kitchen where Clara was already pouring herself a cup of coffee, looking more awake than Amy ever would at this time of day.

"Hey, Clara?" she began, walking to the cabinet and pulling out a mug of her own.  "I ran into Rory at the store yesterday and invited him over for dinner tonight, it that's alright.  I'll talk to the aunts about it later when they come down."

Clara nodded at her sisters words, taking a sip, before her face lit up.  "Brilliant!"

Amy regarded her sister suspiciously, her expression half-hidden by her mug.  "What's brilliant?"

"Dinner!  We'll have a dinner party.  Mickey may or may not be under the impression that we're harboring a possible murderer - at least that's what I got from his heartfelt plea on behalf of Lucy Cole after he admitted he knew the car was Harry's.  So we'll have a dinner, invite all our friends - Mickey included - to show that everything is completely fine here.  That we have nothing and no one to hide.  That will get the investigation off us and we can go back to our normal lives."

Amy frowned.  "Can we leave the scheming for when I'm more awake?"  She didn't want to have a dinner party, she just wanted Rory to come over, though she wasn't entirely sure why.  Growing up, Clara had always been the more studious sister.  Amy was never irresponsible exactly, but she tended to put off any sort of homework or studying until the last moment.  She remembered many nights staying awake until the early hours with Rory helping her through some thing or another.  His kindness had gotten her through high school.

~~~

The grocery store was just down the street and the Doctor headed toward it.  He had no idea how long he planned on sticking around and he didn't want to waste money eating out for every meal, so he'd need to buy meals he could fit into the small fridge in his room and cook using the microwave provided.  It wasn't all that appetizing, but there was too much he still needed to figure out in this town.  The Ravenwood family could provide a wealth of information for his research and Clara...

He had a sketchbook in his bag full of reasons to try to figure her out.

A couple was exiting the store, their hands full of bags.  He watched them for a moment before realizing why the blonde woman was familiar, she was one of Clara's friends that he'd met at the diner.  What was her name again?  Had she told him her name?

Her eyes met his and her lips curled into a smile as he got closer.  "Doctor, right?"

He nodded.  "What was your name again?  I'm terribly sorry, but I think I've forgotten."

Her smile got wider like she was trying not to laugh.  "It's Rose.  This is John, my husband," she gestured toward the man standing next to her with her elbow.  "John, this is the Doctor."

"Strange name."

"I get that a lot," he responded.

Rose glanced between the two men, something mischievous dancing in her smile.  "He's, well, he's sort of a friend of Clara's.  We met him at the diner the other day and they got along rather quickly."

"Oh, is that so?" John spoke, picking up on his wife's tone of voice.

The Doctor cleared his throat.  "Well, her family history is quite interesting for my line of research."

"Don't listen to what the people in this town say," Rose rolled her eyes.  "Did someone tell you they have a placenta farm?  Because that is absolutely not true.  The only reason Sarah Jane and Donna look like they haven't aged in the last twenty years is that they have really good genes."

The Doctor's eyes widened at that.  "Ah, no, that hasn't come up.  Actually, Clara and I went to the museum yesterday and I read the information there on her family."

"You know," she looked up at him, thinking.  "We're going to her house tonight for dinner.  You should come."

"That's a great idea," John agreed.  "I know Clara, she wouldn't mind at all."

The Doctor eyed them suspiciously before slowly nodding his head.  "Alright, I'll come."

"Great!" Rose beamed.  "We'll pick you up at the hotel around eight."

~~~

"For the record, this was not my idea," Amy exclaimed as she finished mixing the cookie dough.  Clara squared her shoulders from the other side of the kitchen, bracing for a fight.

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes.  "I think it's a lovely idea.  Honestly, we haven't had people over since Danny." 

 _Died,_ she didn't say.   _Since Danny died._ Clara didn't want to say it either.  As Amy started dropping balls of dough onto the cookie sheet, a sound from outside caught the attention of all three women and they glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of headlights from the driveway which is out of sight from the kitchen.  "Guess people are arriving," Clara observed.  "I'll let them in."

She walked through the dining room and to the front door, opening it to see Martha and Mickey standing on the front porch.  "Hi," she said happily, pulling first Martha and then Mickey into quick hugs, and then standing aside so they can enter.  "Dinner's just about done, go ahead and take a seat at the table."  Just as she was closing the door, she saw another car pull up.  She saw blonde hair peak out over the open car door and knew to wait with the door still open.

Rose waited at the car while her husband also exited the vehicle and the two of them began walking up to the house together.  But they were only a few steps along when a third car door opened and a tall, thin man with gray hair stepped out as well.  Clara stepped back in surprise at that.  When the three of them reached the door, she greeted them all with friendly smiles, but held Rose's arm fully to keep her from joining the others in the dining room.

When they were alone, she closed the door and let go of Rose.  "What's  _he_ doing here?" She asked in a harsh whisper.

"I thought you'd be happy to see him," Rose responded innocently.  "You were getting along so well at the diner."

Clara glared at her friend.  "I'm watching you."  But she failed to give off the warning tone she'd aimed for, knowing too well that Rose was only doing what she thought was a nice thing for her friend.  She relented, watching as Rose turned the corner into the dining room.  If anything, at least this gave her more time to figure out the whole dream thing.

She stepped into the dining room where Donna was already setting food out for everyone.  Sarah Jane and Amy were just exiting the kitchen and taking their seats at the table.  Clara sat down next to her sister, the Doctor at the other end of the table sitting next to Sarah Jane.  There was another knock at the door.  "I'll get it!" Amy called out, jumping up from her seat.  A moment later, she returned with Rory who took the seat on the other side of her.

They ate as Martha and Rory told stories from their work that day at the hospital.  Rory speaking fondly of a child that came in with a broken leg and was absolutely sweet to all of the staff.  They managed to rope Amy into sharing about her travels and she described the way the Grand Canyon looked at sunset.  It was there that Clara made the mistake of glancing down the table at the Doctor and finding his eyes already on her.  Their gazes met before they both quickly looked away, focusing on the plates in front of them.

"So, Clara," Donna began.  "You haven't introduced us to your new friend."

"Um, this is the Doctor.  Rose actually invited him.  But we... know each other."  She didn't really know how else to put it.  She'd only known him a couple of days and 'friend' was too familiar; then again, she'd known  _of_ him for so much longer than that.

Sarah Jane turned to the man sitting next to her.  "So what brings you to our little town?"

He caught Clara's gaze again, holding it for a moment before looking down at then at the woman who asked him the question.  "Uh, research, actually.  I study the history of the supernatural and its place in general culture.  My current project is trying to piece together accurate accounts of those that played the roll of town witch across the United Kingdom and the United States."

"Isn't that something," Donna commented, amused.  "Is that why you came to dinner here?"

"Not exactly, but I did hear a little bit about your family history.  I would love if there was anything you could tell me."

"Oh could we," Donna said.

"Where to begin," Sarah Jane chimed in.  "Lillian thinks she needs to lose weight again.  I told her that new year's resolutions were for the whole year, not just the first few months and she couldn't always rely on us.  I worked the spell for her anyway, but I also snuck a charm into her purse to give her confidence the next time her mother makes a comment about her body."

"Gary wanted his business blessed," added Donna.  "That I was more than happy to do."

"Michael wanted something to help him hide his affair.  I didn't like doing that one so much, but I agreed to because—"

"That same day his wife Antonia came in asking for something that could make her husband admit that he was having an affair."

"We've been waiting in anticipation to see how all that works out," Sarah Jane finished.

"So you're actually still practicing witchcraft?" the Doctor asked, but Clara was surprised to find he didn't ask it with disbelief or condescension, but rather in a tone of scholarly excitement.

"Of course," Sarah Jane answered.  "We're Ravenwoods.  It's what we do."

His face lit up.  "That's amazing.  This is far better than that family in Pennsylvania that had a trunk full of detailed journals.  Can you tell me more about it?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything.  Tell me everything you can."  And the aunts gladly began to fulfill his request.  Donna especially had always enjoyed an appreciative audience, and Clara knew better than anyone that an appreciative audience was the one thing this town never really wanted to give them.

Ashildr joined in on the aunts conversations, while Amy fell into a near whisper with Rory beside her.  John amused Celeste by making funny faces and getting her to make them in return.  Clara tried to pay attention to the conversation carried by Mickey, Rose, and Martha, but her attention kept getting drawn to the one across the table.  The Doctor listened to everything her aunts said with rapt attention, whether they were discussing an illness someone's kid had or the various properties of herbs.

The evening began to pass.  Soon Clara sent her daughters to bed and a couple hours later Mickey excused himself as he had to work in the morning.  Rory promised to drive Martha home so she could continue to enjoy the evening.  Donna disappeared from the room at around 11:20 and after a few minutes Sarah Jane slipped into the kitchen.  The remaining seven of them look at each other, unsure what was going on until the tell-tale sign of their aunts playing up stereotypes " _Eye of newt and toe of frog"  "Wool of bat and tongue of dog"_ before they heard the sound of a blender switched on followed by Sarah Jane's very best attempt at a cackle.

"Midnight margaritas," Amy, Clara, Rose, and Martha announced in joyful unison, memories of many ridiculous nights running through their minds.

A minute later Donna came into the room with a tray of glasses, her sister following with the blender and the rest of the tequila.  Everyone happily took some apart from the Doctor who politely declined at the beginning, but laughed good-naturedly at the slight change of vibe in the room.

It wasn't long before John started adding an 'ly' to half his words, Rose kept trying to pronounce longer and more non-existent words like "raxacoricofallapatorius" whatever that meant, and Rory decided to start pretending he was a soldier in the Roman army to get Amy to laugh.

"Did you know," Donna began.  "That when Amy was little she had an imaginary friend.  What was his name again?"

Clara smiled at the memory.  "I remember him.  The Raggedy Doctor, that's what he was called."

"What a creepy name," Sarah Jane thought out loud.  "For a while we thought she was seeing the ghost of some dead doctor or something, her mother was quite gifted when it came to the dead, but nope, just someone she made up."

"Well, that's perfectly understandable," Martha came to her defense.  "Growing up in a town that treated her as this one had.  Making friends wasn't easy."

Amy gave Martha a grateful look, but it was Clara who thanked her out loud.  "At least we have all of you."

Amy took another swallow before grabbing Clara's hand, holding it palm up.  "Let me tell you your future."  Cheers erupted from the table.  She brought the palm up to her face like she was studying it carefully, before lowering it again with a smirk.  Her eyes didn't leave her sister's palm as she spoke.  "I see a man."

"Ooh," the aunts cheered in amusement.

"I see a man and he is gorgeous."  Down the table, Rose clapped a couple of times, laughing.  "Oh, and he is  _big."_ At that point Amy looked up from Clara's palm and very obviously winked at the Doctor.  Everyone laughed.

Clara pulled her hand away, feeling her cheeks heat up.  She'd only know the Doctor a couple of days and already everyone in the room was making assumptions.  She chanced a look at him and found that he was smiling at her with warmth and laughter in his eyes.  Her breath caught in her throat at that look and she thought to herself that he was beautiful.  She quickly glanced away again, grabbing Amy's hand.  "My turn."

Amy nodded in agreement, her gaze challenging her sister, but when Clara looked down at the palm, she found she couldn't focus on the lines at all.  It didn't matter too much, Amy wasn't really reading anything either, but as Clara looked across the palm without really seeing it, she found herself saying words she'd barely thought of as well.  "There's someone in your life too, but they aren't a stranger, rather they're someone you've known for a long time."

Amy pulled her hand away as her sister had done only minutes before, but when Clara looked up, Amy's smile was soft and genuine.  "Thank you," she mumbled.

As things began to wind down at whatever horrible hour of the night it was - they were all too afraid to look at the clock - the aunts had decided drinking the tequila straight was a good idea.  They leaned into each other swaying and holding the bottle between them as they began singing.   _"Little things I should have said and done, I just never took the time.  But you were always on my mind.  You were always on my mind!"_

Clara and Amy's heads shot up at the same time, their attention fixed on their aunts.  Then Clara noticed the bottle, realizing she'd seen it before.  "Where did you get that tequila?"

 _"Someone left it on the porch!"_ they answered in unison, in the same tune as the song.

Amy jumped out of her chair, snatching the bottle from their hands without a word.  Clara, Rory, and the aunts immediately followed her into the kitchen where they watched her throw the bottle into the sink.  It shattered, sending glass and tequila across the counter and onto the floor.  "This isn't possible," she seethed.  "He's dead and gone, this isn't possible."

"What's going on?" Sarah Jane demanded.

Clara squared her shoulders for the second time in the kitchen that day.  "We had a problem and we took care of it."

"Wait."  Rory put up both his hands like they could slow down the conversation.  "Do you mean—"

John, Rose, Martha, and the Doctor stepped into the kitchen before he could finish his question.  As they observed the mess, Clara heard footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Ashildr was in the room, her eyes filled with sleep and concern.  "I heard a crash," she explained.

"Is everything okay?" the Doctor asked.

"It's fine," Clara snapped.  Her face softened immediately and she shot him an apologetic look.  A broom in the corner of the room fell to the ground with a bang and all ten of them jumped at the sound.

Sarah Jane whispered into the silent, tension-filled room, "Broom fell." 

"Company's coming," Donna finished.

Ashildr took small, determined steps to the kitchen window, not minding the glass on the floor.  She stopped, resting her hands on the sill.  "Who is that man in the garden?"

"What man?" Clara asked.

"The one under the roses," she replied.

Clara and Amy ran to the window, standing on either side of Ashildr.  There was no one in sight, but in the light of the moon they could see the roses.  It wasn't the right season, there hadn't even been any buds, but sure enough the rose bushes were covered in roses, fully bloomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if Rose's husband John should be Nine or Ten, so I chose to just not describe any physical characteristics and use different aspects of both their personalities.


	7. In the Cold Light of Day

That was it.  Amy looked around the room at all the spooked at tense faces.  She'd only been back for a handful of days and she'd already ruined everything.  Except it was worse than that because she had ruined everything before even setting foot back in this town.  She wished she had never met Harry, but she had met him and she had killed him, and now he was apparently haunting her.  Rory hadn't even looked at her since her meltdown in the kitchen and that had been over an hour ago.

Barely a word had been spoken by anyone for the last hour.  Her aunts seemed the least affected, more annoyed than anything else.  Rose and Martha sat on the couch, their legs curled underneath them and their bodies leaning into one another.  John sat within reaching distance of his wife, his gaze turning to her every few moments like he needed to constantly check that she was okay.  The Doctor sat in an armchair by himself, his eyes glued to the floor beneath him like he could will himself invisible.  After sending Ashildr back upstairs, Clara had taken a seat by the living room window, which did not have a view of the rose garden, and she focused on the dark scene outside like it was the only thing that mattered.

They all just sat in the room drinking coffee in awkward silence.  It wasn't like anyone really knew what had happened.  Okay, thinking back on what had been said, it would seem that  _Rory_ figured out what had happened.  And the aunts probably guessed it too.  And Ashildr, since ghosts don't just show up without someone dying first.  But the others came in after the initial conversation, so all they could have caught was that Ashildr thought she saw a man in the garden when there wasn't one.  No big deal.  Except as Amy looked around the room again, she could tell that it was kind of a big deal.  Maybe they didn't know exactly what had happened, but they knew  _something_ had happened and that it wasn't good.

Maybe Martha didn't know Amy had murdered someone, but she did hear Ashildr say she thought she saw a man outside and her aunts immediately dismiss it.  Which means Martha will go home and tell her husband how strange the evening got and his theory that they're hiding Harry up here will seem more plausible than ever.  So much for Clara's let's-have-dinner-and-pretend-everything's-normal plan.  Amy wasn't sure how much evidence was needed for a search warrant, but she did know that if they came up here with sniffer dogs they'd find that dead body pretty quickly.

At least with Rose and John, Amy didn't think there'd be any real problem.  Rose always had a way of sensing the emotions around her, so for now she likely just knew something was very wrong.  And John always knew when there was something bothering his wife.  But the Doctor... was a bit of a wildcard.  Amy didn't know him so she didn't know what to think.  Now that she thought about it, the whole thing was strange.  They'd just met him a few days ago and now he was in their house.  She thought it was cute in the diner how her sister seemed to maybe like him, but that didn't explain the way everyone had accepted him so easily.  For all she knew he could have known Harry and stalked them here.

Except that there was something about him, something she trusted.  She looked at him and he looked like a stranger, yet something about his appearance felt familiar to her.  Like she'd heard his description or read it in a book.  She didn't even realize she'd been staring at him until he glanced up at met her gaze.  His eyes,  _blue eyes._ And he had gray hair.   _Gray and curly._ Sure there were lot's of men with blue eyes and gray curls, but of all of them,  _this one_ had ended up in their house.  In their lives.  She turned her focus to her sister still staring out the window.  Clara'd had those dreams so often as a child and she still had them now.  Amy remembered the letter in which she revealed that the man in her dreams changed through the years, changed as he aged.  Could it be him?  After all this time had her sister's dreams finally caught up with her?

If so he picked a hell of a time to show up.  Amy didn't think his timing could be worse.  For all she knew she and her sister might be arrested by dinner.

Finally, after enough awkward, coffee-drinking silence has passed, John decided to break the tension.  He stood up and faced the room.  "It's probably time we headed home.  Martha, would you still like that ride?"

"Yes please," she answered, standing up and setting her mug on the table next to the couch.  She held out her hand and pulled Rose up.

John walked up to Amy and held out his hand.  She accepted it.  "I'm sorry this evening didn't end as nicely as it began," he told her.  "But it really was a lovely dinner."  Amy nodded, the corners of her mouth turning up a little at his kindness.  He shook hands next with Donna and Sarah Jane before approaching Clara next to the window.  But instead of shaking her hand, he pulled her into a hug like he knew it was exactly what she needed in that moment.  Maybe he did know.  He didn't have quite the talent at assessing emotional climates that Rose did, but his heart was just as big.

The Doctor seemed to be backing out of the room like he could escape without anyone noticing, but Amy caught the look on his face when he saw Clara break free from her trance-like state, pulled out of it by the comfort of a friend, and his feet suddenly changed direction, carrying him toward her.  He kneeled down in front of her chair and Amy strained to hear their conversation.  "I know you didn't expect me here," he said.  "But thank you for allowing me into your home.  It was a lovely evening and I do hope to see you in town again."Amy thought Clara wasn't going to say anything at all in response, but finally she nodded and a small smile found its way onto the Doctor's face.

Once the door closed behind the four of them, Rory got up from his chair and walked directly to Amy.  "I probably should go too."

"Yeah," was all she could manage in response.  He was finally talking to her again, but it was just to say goodbye.

"I'll see you," he said and it sounded like a dismissal, but when he met her eyes Amy could see hope there, still trying to hold its ground.

"You will," she replied with as much confidence as she could muster.  "In a day or two, I'm sure we'll all be miserable tomorrow after the amount we drank earlier."

"Probably," he smiled.

When she heard the door close as he left, she marched straight up to her sister and wrapped her arms around her.  Burying her face in Clara's neck, she let the evening finally wash over her and cried.

~~~

Clara opened her eyes and then immediately closed them against the blinding light.  Her head was pounding and she winced at even the thought of getting up just yet.  She forced one eye open to check the time and the clock glared 11:12 back at her.  Groaning, she pushed herself up and staggered her way down the flights up stairs to the kitchen.

Sarah Jane, Donna, Ashildr, and Celeste were already seated around the kitchen table eating breakfast.  She sat down next to her youngest daughter and immediately Sarah Jane stood up to fetch something and returned a moment later, plopping a glass of water, a cup of coffee, and a plate of waffles in front of Clara.  She watched the slice of lemon float in the water and leaned forward to smell the wintergreen in the waffles.  The water went down first in an effort to rehydrate her body.  She set to work on the waffles as Amy wandered into the kitchen, looking worse for wear.

Her sister took the seat directly opposite her and Sarah Jane set down the same offering Clara got.  Clara looked at her calm aunts.  "How are you two so okay this morning?"

"We never get hangovers dear," Donna answered.  "You know that."  For a moment Clara silently chastised herself for even asking, before realizing that the answer was no real answer at all.

She didn't get a chance to ask again, instead Sarah Jane spoke up.  "The real question here is what happened last night?"  She looked pointedly at both Amy and Clara.

Clara took a deep breath.  "Like I said, we had a problem and we—"

"He was my boyfriend," Amy interrupted.  "And he was abusive.  Clara came down to help me and it went wrong.  He died.  So we brought him back here - it was all my idea, bringing him back.  I thought that maybe if he could walk and talk and had a pulse it wouldn't matter; you can't go down for murder if the person you killed isn't actually dead.  Clara tried to warn me but I wouldn't listen.  When he came back he tried to kill me again so Clara killed him a second time.  We buried him beneath the roses, but now Mickey's asking questions and apparently dear old Harry is haunting us."  The whole thing came out in a speedy blur and Clara glared at her sister.  "I'm sorry," Amy told her.  "We need the help."

"We had a deal," Clara began.

"Your sister's right," Donna said.  "This is what comes from dabbling.  You can't practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it."

Amy glanced at her sister before responding to the scolding.  "We know.  What should we do?"

"We'll need to banish him," Sarah Jane informed them.  "Force his spirit back into the grave.  This isn't an ordinary ghost, he's infused with the darkness of the spell you cast, so it won't be easy.  We'll have to trap him somehow."

"How?" Amy asked.

Donna hummed to herself as she thought.  "A circle of salt would be the easiest place to start, of course.  But drawing him in won't be easy, we'll have to wait for him to come out.  It'll be tricky."

~~~

Their late lunch was beginning to wind down and the sunlight wasn't hurting her eyes so much anymore.  Eating out was the aunts' idea, those women loved food and they raised Clara and her sister to love it just as much as them, and so that was how the six of them found themselves sitting at a table outside The Rose and Crown.  She watched her sister across from her, the woman's movements more timid than she'd seen in a while.  When Clara flew down to Arizona, she had intended to help her sister escape her abuser, but even now he held her back in the shadows.

"Look, mom," Ashildr pulled her from her thoughts, pointing to a familiar figure a little ways down.  "It's the Doctor."

Clara just stared at him, unsure what to do.  Instead it was Donna who spoke.  "It sure is, sweet, why don't you wave him over here?"

And Ashildr did just as her aunt suggested.  "Hey, Doctor!" she called out to him.  He looked up, spotting their table, and smiled, striding over to meet them.

"It's good to see you again," Sarah Jane greeted him.

"I was just on my way to the library," he told them.

Donna smiled up at him.  "You're always welcome back at our house to ask any questions you like."

He shifted where he stood.  "I wasn't so sure, after last night, if you would be inviting any guests over."

Both aunts turned to look at Clara at the same time.  Taking the hint, she rolled her eyes and stood up.  "Doctor, can I talk to you?"

"Of course."

She stepped around the table to meet him and lead him a few feet away so they could speak semi-privately.  "About last night," she began.

"it was strange."

"It was more than strange."

"And there's something you aren't telling me."

Clara sighed.  "I wish I could, but it's complicated.  Somethings happened recently with my sister and me.  We're okay, mostly, but it seems like the problem is less willing to go away than we were hoping.  So I'll understand if you don't want anything to do with us."

He shook his head, his mouth curved into a small, tentative smile.  "I never said that.  Last night  _was_ strange, and I wasn't even drinking so I can't imagine how strange it was for everyone else.  But last night was also great.  I met a family that actually still practices witchcraft in service of their town, and that family was wonderful.  To be entirely honest, I don't lead the most social of lives back in London.  But your friends and family just welcomed me in a way I've never experienced before.  And you," his gaze drifted to the ground and Clara thought she could detect a bit of color on his cheeks.  "There's something I need to tell you about, actually—"

"How's it going over there, Clara?" Donna called out to them.  Clara could swear she looked like she was laughing.

Shaking her head, she looked back at the Doctor.  "Come with us," the words just poured out of her mouth before she could stop them.  "I'll show you more, answer your questions.  I could tell you more about what we do, the... properties of different herbs, and you can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me."

"Okay," he nodded.  "Let's do that."


	8. Rosemary in Bloom

"And that?" he pointed to a bunch of small, yellow flowers. 

"Agrimony.  It's used to help people fall asleep," she explained. 

He chuckled, looking down at a plant that was no doubt familiar to him.  "And I know that is bay." 

"Yes it is.  It can be used in divination, but is, of course, also great for its flavor in cooking."  Her hands wrapped around her cup of tea which had been set down some time ago on the table in the center of the greenhouse, freshly potted plants on either side of it.  They'd been wandering through the greenhouse for maybe fifteen minutes now and she felt too anxious to drink it. 

The Doctor took a sip from his own tea.  "What about that plant?" 

As soon as she saw where he was pointing, she looked away, like the plant offended her.  "Belladonna; it's a sedative." 

"Belladonna?  If I'm not mistaken, some people use it as poison." 

"Which people?" 

" _Witch_ people." 

She smiled, turning away at the last moment in the hope that he wouldn't notice.  "You probably think we're crazy." 

"Why would I think that?" 

"Because you seem like the type of guy who needs to see something to believe it," she shrugged her shoulders. "And I haven't exactly shown you anything worth believing in." 

He gave her a knowing smirk.  "Oh, I wouldn't say that; your spoon has been turning about of its own accord for the past ten or so minutes." 

She looked down where her spoon was indeed continuously stirring her tea and put her hand over her cup to stop it.  "Sorry, that happens sometimes." 

"Absent-minded magic." 

She grimaced, not sure what his reaction meant.  "You probably want to run away now." 

"First you think I won't believe you, and now that I do, you think I'll run." 

"Well, this whole thing is strange to most people; even my husband never fully accepted it." 

"So you _were_ married.  I'd been wondering.  What happened to him?" 

"He died." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

She nodded, swallowing hard.  "I should never have married him, my family is cursed, but he gave me two beautiful daughters and I can never regret that." 

"And you work at their school?" 

"Yes," she was thankful for the change in topic.  "Well, not exactly.  I teach the older kids, so I really only see them before and after work." 

"And are they?" he paused for a moment, figuring out how to state his question.  "Are they like you?" 

She smiled.  "Yep.  Better than me, I'd like to think.  Of course, they're only beginning to learn, but I hope they treat the craft better than I ever did.  To be honest, I turned my back on my heritage and it's only brought me grief." 

"Why did you?" 

Her fingers dragged along the table as she circled it.  "It's easy to blame magic for the things that went wrong in my life.  Magic is a part of my family and it scares me that maybe, in trying to cut the magic out, I was shutting them out as well.  Amy went through a really difficult time recently and I just feel like I should have known something was wrong.  She's my sister and she knew when something was wrong with me, but by the time I knew she needed help, it was almost too late and I made a mess of things.  But I tried so hard to have a normal life - I had a normal husband and a normal job, two beautiful daughters.  Why should I need anything else?"  Somewhere the ghost of her own creation haunted the house.  "I lost sight of who I was, I can't afford to do so again." 

"Maybe there's an herb in here to help you remember." 

"Rosemary," she pointed to a tall green plant behind him as she stepped closer. 

He reached down and pinched a piece off.  "If I remember correctly, it has mythological ties to Aphrodite."  He held the herb in both his hands in front of him, extending his arms just the slightest bit.  "It's used for love as well." 

She felt her cheeks heat as she picked up on the hint.  Placing her hands over his and the sprig of rosemary she said, "Yes, that's right." 

She leaned forward on her toes, raising herself higher.  But before she could reach him he whispered, "I dreamt of you." 

"What?"  She took a step away from him. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this weird, but for years now I've dreamt of you.  I can't even remember how long, maybe always.  That's why I came here." 

"How did you find me?" 

Still holding the rosemary in one hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled a folded envelope and handed it to her.  She took it from him, unfolding it to reveal her name and address.  It was the last letter she sent to Amy before everything happened.  "I think your sister must have dropped it.  I saw you in the parking lot.  I couldn't tell what was happening, but I knew it couldn't be good.  By the time I made it outside, you were already driving off." 

"So you _followed_ me?" 

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable.  "I didn't mean it like that, but I just had all these dreams." 

"No, no, I understand.  I've dreamt of you too, ever since I was a little girl.  Seeing you in the diner, it was so startling." 

"But why?  Why these dreams?  What do they mean?" 

Clara shook her head.  "I'm no expert on dreaming.  We'd have to ask the aunts."  But fear crept into her heart; there was a reason her family was cursed.  Was that reason her?  "Let's go back inside."  She needed time to think. 

~~~ 

Amy went to answer a knock on door, finding Mickey waiting on the other side.  "Mickey!" she announced with as much joy as she could.  She knew there couldn't be a good reason for his visit. 

"You know why I'm here?" he asked like he expected a much different reaction from her. 

"Nope, can't say I do." 

"May I come in?"  She stood aside and let him enter the house.  "Martha told me what I missed at the party last night.  Sounds like it was lot of fun, at least until the end."  He walked slowly through the main room, trying to observe every inch of it.  "She said something freaked out you and Clara at the end and that Ashildr saw a strange man in the garden." 

"You know, I think Ashildr was just sleepy is all." 

"What are you hiding, Amy?  I could get a search warrant if I needed to, the fact that Harry's car is out front would be enough, but it would be better for you if you just told me." 

She shook her head; she couldn't tell him.  He was looking for a fugitive, but all she'd be able to show him was a dead body she and her sister had buried under the roses.  "There's nothing to tell." 

Mickey looked down at the sideboard which was covered in all sorts of trinkets the family had collected over the years.  He reached down and snatched one up before she could see what it was.  "Then what's this?"  He held it up so she could see but so it was still out of her reach.   It was a large silver ring, the one Harry had almost branded her face with.  The one she now knew had branded the face of a dead woman named Lucy Cole.  "Why do you have his ring?" 

"It was in his car," she heard her sister say and looked up to see Clara and the Doctor enter the room.  "After you told us about Ms. Cole, I decided to take a look around the car.  I found it and brought it in, meaning to call you." 

"That's interesting, because I never told you what he had branded her face with.  So why did you think the ring would interest me?" 

"Because he almost did the same thing to Amy."  Her sister was quick with her lies, pulling them out from truths.  "She told me about it when I went to pick her up.  She's still quite unnerved by the whole situation which is why she hasn't really gone into the details with you." 

Mickey's eyes softened a little at that, but he still held himself with caution.  "I'm sorry for what's happened to you.  Would you mind if I searched the car?  There might be more." 

"Go ahead," Clara offered.  "You can take the car if you want, we don't have any use for it." 

"Thank you," he said, turning to leave.  "But you might want to get yourselves a lawyer.  If any of this falls back on you two, you should have proper legal protection." 

Despite everything that was happening, Amy knew he was still their friend.  She held the door open for him as he left the house once more, and took a deep breath out of relief.  This problem with Harry was far from over in so many ways, but she was thankful that they hadn't lost Mickey entirely just yet.  She turned to her sister.  "Clara," was all she had to say before her sister stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. 

Looking over Clara's shoulder she saw the Doctor standing there, watching them with curiosity and concern.  The sisters parted and Clara followed Amy's gaze to the man who should be a stranger in their house but oddly didn't feel like one.  "I should probably leave," he said.  Clara nodded, but Amy could tell her sister didn't really want to send him away.  Even stranger was that Amy didn't really want him to leave either; something about him seemed to fit right in this house.  His presence was an unexpected comfort. 

~~~ 

Clara walked him to the end of the drive and the Doctor looked back at the house again.  He wasn't sure what kind of situation he had walked into when he stepped off that bus.  Standing beside him was the woman he had sketched hundreds if not thousands of times, but something was going on, something that went beyond a simple police investigation.  "So your friend thinks you're hiding some guy on the property?" 

"That's what he thinks, yeah."  Her gaze drifted to the roses that were in full bloom despite the season.  "But we're not." 

"Where do you think he is?" 

He could see the way she almost shook her head, like she wanted to say she didn't know but couldn't quite get the words out.  It was several seconds before she said anything at all.  "The spirit world," she replied with a sigh. 

So the man was dead.  He wanted to ask if Amy had killed him but decided such a question would be rude.  The sun was setting around them and he knew he should leave.  There was something dark going on at the house, something he should probably stay out of if he knew what was good for him.  But he'd never been all that adept at playing safe.  "Clara," he began, figuring whatever he needed to say would come to him as he said it. 

He never got the chance.  Clara leaned up and pressed her lips to his.  His hands cupped her face as he leaned into the kiss, all his thoughts fleeing.  "Don't leave," she said like a question, like he could choose the answer.  "Stay here." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter felt hard to write, so thank you to everyone who waited so patiently! Happy Valentine's Day!


	9. Waking Nightmare

The room shifted in the darkness around her, only the faint light of a waxing moon to reveal the vague outlines of objects.  Shadows swallowed everything, covering her in a blanket of protection and chilling her at the same time.  She moved through them, searching for some sort of warmth, when she saw him, his face blurred slightly, but it was his silver hair and angular face all the same.  She felt that his eyes were open, but when she looked at them they were still closed.  When she reached her hand toward him, her arm fought a soft resistance, its path a slow one, like moving through water. 

When her hand reached him, she was overcome with a minute focus. His face was clear to her and everything else was hazy by comparison. The universe seemed to narrow down to what was immediately in front of her, to what felt real in that moment. His eyes never opened, but she felt she was being watched, that he was looking back at her. A sensation ran along her arm to the point where her hand touched his face, like pins and needles it felt like waking up and was almost painful. 

Slowly, his eyes began to open and it was like they were being pulled apart in slow motion, but her limbs were devoid of any feeling. Her focused narrowed until it went black and she opened her eyes.  Pitch black at first, it soon gave way to the slight moonlight, revealing the same room from her dream, the Doctor directly in front of her just as he had been.  His eyes opened a moment after hers and understanding settled deep within her, understanding that it wasn't just a dream, it was one of _the_ dreams – the dreams they both had, the dreams that brought them together. 

Even in the faint light, she could see the same understanding wash over him to, his eyes filling with wonder and warmth.  She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for the second time, memories of the previous night coming back to her.  After asking him to stay, they had retreated back to the house, a comforting silence only occasionally broken by conversation.  As the night had wore on, they eventually fell asleep in her room. 

He leaned into her and deepened the kiss, parting his lips and allowing her in.  She pressed her body against his, needing to be as close to him as she possibly could.  Her legs wrapped around his hips as she rolled him onto his back.  She felt his hands slip under her shirt, tracing her spine as her hips began to roll of their own accord. 

Grabbing the hem of her shirt, their kiss broke only for a moment as he lifted it over her head and dropped it somewhere nearby.  Slowly, they each began to rid the other of their clothing, finding comfort in skin against skin.  She could feel him hard against her and reached down, guiding him inside. 

~~~ 

The sunlight was nearly blinding as he opened his eyes.  Briefly, the Doctor wondered where he was until he registered the weight of someone pressed against his side and looked down to find Clara still alseep.  It was strange that he found himself there; they hadn't known each other that long at all.  Then again, he felt he'd known her all his life, the dreams having followed him for as long as he could remember. 

And now those dreams had brought them together.  He wondered where they came from and why they had them.  But he couldn't really concentrate on working out the answer to that with Clara in his arms, her bare skin pressed against his own. 

She stirred a little, her eyes slowly opening to meet his own, and she shared with him a small smile that spoke to the peace of the morning.  "Good morning," he said to her in a low voice, trying not to break the silence to harshly. 

Clara hummed in response, leaning up to press her lips to his once more.  He gave into the kiss instantly, though they both remained unhurried.  They parted when they both heard her stomach growl.  "Breakfast," she said, laughing against him. 

"Breakfast," he nodded.  He stepped off the bed, holding out a hand to pull her off as well, and they both searched the room for the items of clothing they had discarded sometime in the night.  He was buttoning up his shirt when he remembered his curiosity about the dreams.  "Is it common... for people to dream like we do?" 

Her peaceful smile dissolved slightly as she took in his question.  "No, not as far as I know.  I've never read anything about it and my aunts have never told me any stories like it.  There are, of course, instances where young people try to dream of their future love, such as on Midsummer's Eve, but never this.  Never a consistent bond lasting decades." 

He couldn't say the answer surprised him, but he'd hoped she would know more about their strange situation than he did.  It seemed she was as much in the dark as he.  "What do you think might have caused it?  Any guesses?" 

Her answer was a quiet one and she wouldn't meet his eyes.  "Yes.  You're here to learn more about my family, so I guess you'll learn this sooner or later.  My family is cursed." 

"Cursed?" he repeated with a measure of disbelief. 

"Twice over," she confirmed.  "There's an ancient prophecy that predicts one day a Ravenwood witch will fall in love, and that love will unravel the web of time.  My ancestor cast a spell to prevent the prophecy from ever coming true.  She cast a spell that would kill anyone who dared love a Ravenwood." 

"You're serious?" 

"That's how my husband died."  The silence that settled between them was suddenly uncomfortable. 

He was trying to take everything in, to make sense of what she was saying.  "And the dreams?" 

"Their very uniqueness suggests the prophecy.  Maybe I'm wrong.  I hope I'm wrong.  But even then, the curse..." 

He wanted to respond, to say anything really, but he found the words wouldn't come. 

She stared at him like she was waiting for him to say something.  "Maybe the aunts will know," she finally said.  It almost sounded hopeful, but then her shoulders shrugged.  The curse.  "I'll walk you to the door," she whispered. 

He went with her willingly, still struggling to make sense of everything.  But his world had been turned around in a matter of days and he still hadn't completely adjusted.  Only when she had her hand on the front door knob did he find his voice again.  "So is this it?" and if his voice sounded hopeless, it was because he didn't know how to hide his emotions that morning. 

"We can't—  We could be the two from the prophecy, destined to destroy.  And even if we aren't, there's still the curse.  I won't go through that again, I won't lose you." 

He covered her hand with his own for a moment.  Despite her words, he knew this was as good as losing each other anyway.  "I'll go then."  He pulled the door open with her and stepped out onto the front step. 

"You can still come by, learn what you need to about my family.  The aunts love an audience." 

He smiled weakly at her, unsure if he could take the offer or not.  He took several steps down the path before looking back one more time.  "You know, curses only have power when you believe in them.  And I don't." 

~~~ 

Amy had watched her sister race back up the stairs ten minutes ago, the sounds of her sobs following her.  She thought at first that she should go up and make sure everything was alright, but she felt this time that Clara would need a moment alone.  But after ten minutes, the desire to comfort her sister only grew and she placed her hands on the railing intending to climb up. 

A knock on the door interrupted her.  It seemed someone was always knocking on their door these days.  She opened it to see that Mickey had returned. 

"Morning," he greeted her before she had the chance to say anything.  "Is Clara around?" 

Amy shook her head.  "She's upstairs.  She's really upset about something; I'm worried.  Should I get her." 

"No.  I'm sorry to hear she isn't well, but I was actually hoping to speak with you alone."  He pushed past her, stepping into the house.  "When she came into the room yesterday, I had the distinct impression that the answers I received were not honest ones.  I care about you two, but I need you to stop lying to me." 

Amy's tongue stuck where it was.  She knew she couldn't tell him the truth, but she was running out of excuses, of reasons to give that would throw him off their trail.  "What do you want to know?" 

"Are you hiding Harold Saxon in this house?" 

"We're not hiding him."  And that was the truth. 

"Is there any information you can give as to his whereabouts?" 

She shook her head again, covering her mouth with her hand as her anxiety and exhaustion seemed to catch up with her all at once.   _No,_  she wanted to say, but something moving behind him caught her eye.  She moved her head, trying to see what it was. 

There were footsteps on the stairs above her, walking through the house behind her, but her attention was entirely on the sight before her.  The wall seemed to ripple, like it was no longer a solid mass.  The ripples became more distinct, rounder.  The roundness began to protrude from the wall, turning slowly and revealing the shape of a face.  Then it opened its eyes and she found herself looking at Harry for the first time since his second death. 

Mickey swerved into her focus again.  "Amy?" 

"You're about to find out." 

"What?" 

"Exactly where Harold Saxon is." 

Mickey spun around to follow her gaze, nearly tripping in his haste to back away as his eyes fell upon Harry's ghost. 

"A police officer," Harry said with a grin that was all teeth, his voice a harsh whisper.  "How exciting.  Are you here for me, officer?" 

Amy pushed Mickey aside.  "Leave him out of this." 

"Amy, what's going on?" Mickey asked, a slight panic to his voice. 

"Isn't it obvious, officer," Harry answered for her.  "You came here for me, but she's the real killer here.  Her and her sister." 

Mickey looked at her, the question in his eyes despite his inability to voice it.  The question alone was enough to hurt her.  But she couldn't deny it, she and Clara had killed him.  "I— I can't explain right now." 

Mickey backed away from her like she was actually something to be afraid of.  She caught the gleeful smile that overtook Harry's face just as he lunged at her friend.  She didn't know what Harry planned, didn't have time to think about it.  She stepped in front of Mickey pushing him back.  "Get out of here," she nearly yelled at him.  He only stumbled, his legs failing to follow her order. 

She turned around, her arm reaching through Harry's incorporeal chest like she might actually be able to hurt him.  He only moved further down her arm like a gust of wind.  She reached forward, trying to grab him, trying to grab the wind.  She couldn't tell if there was any success in it, if she could ever really fight him, but she kept trying, kept reaching her fingers through him.  She was so tired, tired of him, tired of the whirlwind her life had become.  And even as she thought back, searched for a time in her memories that she wasn't tired of, a time she wished to return to, tears welled up in her eyes.  They were tears of desperation, tears of longing as she remembered being a little girl, sitting next to her sister and eating Donna's brownie's late at night. 

The gust of wind tore through her and the image slipped away, replaced only with that same sense of fatigue.  Her legs crippled beneath her and she fell to her knees, feeling Mickey's hands on her shoulders to keep her from falling entirely.  The footsteps she heard earlier grew louder and she looked up to see Clara running down the stairs before the heaviness forcer her eyes closed and her vision when black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been like a month since I last updated? I'm so sorry. Life did get a bit overwhelming, but if you read my other fic or follow me on tumblr (gwendolynnby.tumblr.com), you'll know that I got in to two of the grad schools I applied to and have been offered a teaching assistantship at one of them, so the craziness in my life recently hasn't all been for nothing.


	10. The Call of the Bird

Clara had entered the room just in time to see the ghostly shape of Harry disappear inside her sister.  "Amy!" she screamed, racing toward her sister and gripping the front of her shoulders while Mickey supported her from behind.  "Amy?"  Her sister, eyes closed, made no response.  The aunts were there in a second and Clara looked up at them.  "He's inside her somehow." 

"Possession," Sarah Jane clarified.  "This is fortunate, actually.  Her body can provide a cage for his soul, if she is strong enough." 

Part of Clara wanted to argue that her sister shouldn't be used in such a way, but practically won out and she nodded.  Glancing up at Mickey, she ordered, "Help me lift her."  Positioning her hands under Amy's knees, the two of them lifted her and began carrying her from the room.  Clara guided them to the sitting room and they laid her gently on a sofa. 

Behind her she heard someone knock on the door.  "Why is there always someone knocking on our door these days?" Sarah Jane asked as she followed them into the room. 

Clara shrugged, smirking in spite of herself.  "There has always been someone knocking, ever since I was a kid."  It was true.  The aunts provided a unique service, and many went in search of it. 

They could hear Donna greeting the unexpected visitor.  "Mr. Williams, what a surprise." 

"Is Amy here?" came Rory's inquiry. 

"I'm afraid she's a little indisposed at the moment," Donna replied.  "Could you come back another time?" 

"What's happened?" Rory asked, slightly panicked. 

"You really should leave."  From Donna's indignant sounds a moment later, it was clear he didn't take her advice, and soon enough he appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. 

Clara stood up from her post by her sister, approaching him.  "Rory, you should go." 

He didn't even look at her, his eyes focused on her sister.  "What happened to her?" 

Clara placed her hands on his chest, trying to keep him back, if not forcefully remove him from the room.  "We're dealing with it." 

"This has to do with the man the two of you killed, doesn't it?"  He may as well have not even noticed her standing in front of him, as he pushed past her with ease.  "The man Ashildr saw in the garden." 

"How do  _you_ know they killed him?" Mickey asked.  "I was the one investigating." 

Rory ignored him, kneeling down in front of Amy.  As his hands reached out to touch her, something caught his eye and caused him to jump back in surprise.  A shadowy hand protruded from her chest, reaching toward him. 

She coughed as the hand extended, revealing the arm.  Rory kept backing away as the arm became a shoulder and the shoulder became a chest, pulling the face of Harry along with it.  Clara stepped in front of Rory, pushing him back even further and motioning for Mickey to step far away as well. 

She faced Harry's ghost, straightening her shoulders, hardening her stance, and glanced at her aunts.  "This is disappointing," Donna exclaimed. 

"We finally strike a bit of luck and then he almost immediately exits her body," Sarah Jane finished. 

Harry laughed at their comments but kept his intense stare on Clara.  "You seek to destroy me?  You will never destroy me."  His feet stepped down onto the floor and he turned back to look at Amy whose eyes were just beginning to open. 

Rory shoved his way around Clara.  "Don't you touch her!" 

Harry's head snapped back to the front.  "Rory, it's good to see you again.  I've been watching you inside this house."  Harry took three slow steps in Rory's direction.  Rory only backed away one.  "She likes you.  She thinks she can protect you.  I think I'll prove her wrong." 

"I'm not afraid of you," Rory said. 

Clara stepped up beside him.  "You probably should be," she whispered. 

"I kind of am," Mickey added from Rory's other side. 

Harry stalked closer.  "You should listen to your friends.  I  _am_ going to hurt you.  I'm going to cause you pain and then I will end your pointless life just to cause  _her_ pain.  Then I'll finish her off as well.  Both sisters, actually." 

Clara heard hushed voices and movements beside her.  Glancing to her right, she watched her aunts quickly discuss something.  Nodding to each other, Sarah Jane moved to stand next to her while Donna drifted to the other side.  As she passed Rory, Clara heard her whisper, "Half of magic is intent."  And then Donna was standing next to Mickey. 

Rory took another step closer to Harry.  "How will you hurt us?"  Harry didn't answer, just stared at the other man.  Rory repeated the question, "How will you hurt us?  You were just inside of Amy now, were you able to hurt her?  All you could do was sit inside of her.  You're smoke.  You can't hold anything, can't grab any weapons, can't kill us." 

Clara knew that there were ways Harry would be able to hurt them, he just had to learn what they were.  In the meantime, Rory had a point.  A ghost who didn't know how to control his current state, how to touch things from their world, wasn't much of a threat at all. 

"You're nothing," Rory declared.  "You're just a memory."  Taking a deep breath, Rory stepped forward once more and straight through the ghost of Harry himself.  The smoke of Harry spread in tendrils around him before blowing away and fading into the light of the room.  Rory's legs buckled underneath him and he sat down in front of Amy.  "I did it," he said with disbelief. 

Amy reached out a shaky hand from where she lay and touched his face.  He leaned forward, curling into her gentle embrace. 

"You got rid of him for now," Donna's voice brought them back to the reality of their situation.  "But he will be back." 

"He certainly will," Sarah Jane agreed.  "And he will have learned in his absence.  A trick like that won't work a second time." 

Clara tore her eyes from her sister and their childhood friend.  Turning to Mickey, she regarded the fear in his eyes he was trying to hide.  She placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  "You okay?" 

His eyes moved to hers in an instant.  "No," he answered honestly.  "That was a ghost.  You and Amy...  And he wasn't—"  He took a deep breath, reordering his words.  "This is a lot to take in." 

Clara nodded.  He'd been okay with what they were since they were children, but now his friends had become murderers.  It was a miracle he didn't arrest them on the spot.  "I understand."  She squeezed his shoulder once before letting her hand drop. 

He gave her a weak smile.  "I'm going to go home now.  I'll contact you later."  He stepped up to Amy and Rory, kneeling down in front of them.  "I'm glad you're okay," he told Amy before standing up and leaving the room. 

At the sound of the front door closing, Clara approached her aunts.  "What do we do now?" 

"We come up with a plan," Sarah Jane replied. 

~~~ 

The Doctor stared out the window of his hotel room, his hands hovering over the suitcase laying atop his bed.  Leave or stay - he had to decide.  He didn't want to leave, he wanted to run back to the Ravenwood house, find Clara, and pull her into his arms.  He wanted to kiss her again.  He wanted to kiss her and never stop. 

His hands clenched and unclenched over the suitcase. 

Clara had already told him goodbye.  This was what she wanted.  If he returned to her house now she would likely just send him away again.  She might even have one of her aunts do it for her.  He couldn't bear that. 

Stepping back from the bed and turning around, he opened one of the drawers and pulled out his folded shirts.  Turning back to the suitcase, he placed them gently inside.  As the fabric slipped from his hands, he felt his heart clench and tears well up behind his eyes, threatening to spill out. 

The aunts.  They had so much information.  They had their book and their supplies and their memories.  They were a wealth of knowledge he hadn't come across before.  They knew so much and all of it could be so, so helpful to his work.  Leaving now meant losing that. 

His hands rested on the rim of the case.  But he'd made up his mind. 

He opened more drawers and pulled out more clothing, placing it inside the suitcase.  He couldn't stay.  If he stayed it would only be for his work and the hope of something more.  But that hope would amount to nothing and that nothing might kill him.  He couldn't – he wouldn't – do that to himself. 

He went into the bathroom and gathered up his things, bringing them to his bed as well.  Leaving would hurt enough as it was.  It would hurt him to give up.  It would hurt him when she still visited him in his dreams, as he felt she would. 

His hand fell upon the book on the desk.  His sketchbook filled with pictures of her.  He would never be rid of her, he knew that.  He didn't even want that.  But he couldn't deal with seeing her in person every day, not now, not yet.  He could leave and come back some other time.  Later.  In a year, maybe two, when his heart had finally healed a little, enough to handle seeing her in front of him. 

The thought made him feel a little better already.  This wasn't forever, it was just for now.  He would learn to live with her decision and then return.  He would listen to all of Sarah Jane and Donna's stories, hear everything they have to say, and maybe he would get to see her smile again, hear her voice as she told him of something. 

Zipping his suitcase closed, he walked it to the door and placed it in front.  First thing in the morning, as soon as he woke up, he would check out of the hotel and then he would take the first bus out of town.  No, not the first bus.  This may not be goodbye forever, but it was goodbye for now and he had to tell her that.  He couldn't just leave without saying a word, he wasn't that kind of person. 

That was his plan; wake up, check out, say goodbye. 

~~~ 

_Kraa_

Clara's blinked in the darkness of the early morning, trying to adjust and trying to close again at the same time. She rolled over, relaxing her body again and allowing it to fall back asleep.

_Kraa_

She tensed where she lay, her eyes flying open.

She sat up and objects around the room began to take shape as her eyes took in the little available light.  Soon she could make out the dark blur perched just outside her window, watching as it became a bird. 

 _Kraa_  

All her breath left her as she stared at the raven which regarded her coolly.  It tilted its head, waiting to see what she would do, but she found she couldn't move.  She'd thrown a pillow at it once and perhaps that's what it expected of her now, but she was glued to the spot.  She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. 

It tilted its head back up and hopped left then right.   _Kraa_. 

Clara jumped from the bed as the moment broke, the bird seemingly spurring her into action.  The sun wasn't even up yet and she wasn't sure what she could do, but she knew she couldn't just lay in bed any longer. 

The bird watched her leave her room and she headed for the stairs. Tea, tea was good.  Tea would make things more manageable.  As she placed a hand on the railing, she glanced at the door to Amy's room and felt overcome with worry and the need to check on her sister.  Taking soft steps to the door, she cracked it open and peeked inside.  Amy was still fast asleep, but beside her, sitting up in a chair, was a very awake Rory. 

She slipped in, pulling a second chair up beside him.  "How is she?" 

"Quiet, mostly," he sighed.  "She's been sleeping pretty deeply.  I think she was too exhausted even to dream.  Why are you up so early?" 

Clara swallowed, trying to prepare herself to admit her situation out loud.  "The raven, it's back." 

"Back?" Rory blinked, trying to work out her statement.  "But you already lost your husband.  Doesn't it appear to you when the one you love will die?"  She watched the realization dawn on his face.  "Is this about that Doctor guy?" 

She nodded.  "Yeah." 

"I didn't know you were in love with him." 

"Apparently, I am."  I wasn't even surprising to her.  She'd been practically set on this course since birth. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked earnestly. 

She shrugged her shoulders, watching the sun begin to rise outside the window.  "I don't know what to do." 

"Call him." 

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.  "When the raven came for Danny, I called him and tried to warn him.  I got to listen to him die on the phone." 

Rory grabbed her shoulders, leaning in to make sure he had her full attention.  "Clara, you love this man.  If you don't call him, he could die and you might never even hear his voice again.  Call him.  Warn him.  The find a way to fight this." 

Clara nodded and, wiping the tears from her face, stood up from the chair and walked to the door.  Just as she left the room she heard Amy ask, "What's going on?" 

She raced down the stairs, two at a time, and ran to where her phone was sitting on the dining table.  Quickly looking up the number of the hotel, she tapped it to dial and pressed the phone, waiting anxiously as she listened to it ring.  She paced back and forth until the ringing stopped.  'Hello?' 

"Hi, yes," she replied, clutching the back of a dining chair.  "I was trying to find a friend staying at your hotel, his name is—"  Her voice cut off as she realized he still hadn't shared his actual name with her.  "He may have checked in under the name 'the Doctor' and if he didn't he prefers to be referred to as such.  Tall with gray curly hair?" 

 _'Sorry, mam, he just checked out.'_  

Checked out, she wasn't expecting that.  "Oh, well thank you!" she said in her best attempt at a cheery voice. 

"Clara, are you alright?" Amy asked, entering the kitchen.  "Rory's just told me." 

Clara gave a brief nod, not sure how she could voice everything she felt.  "He's checked out of the hotel.  I have to go find him."  Deciding pajamas were as good as regular clothing, she walked to the entryway and slipped on one of her boots. 

"Oh good," came Donna's voice from the direction of the stairs.  "You girls are up.  We've found just the spell we'll need to get rid of our little problem." 

"We're going to need a full coven, though," Sarah Jane added. 

Clara ignored them, slipping on her other boot and walking to the door, her phone still clutched in one hand.  She opened the door and froze in her tracks.  On her doorstep was the Doctor, hand raised to knock. 

“Hello,” the Doctor offered weakly as his hand slowly came down to his side.  “I just came to say goodbye.”

Clara glanced behind him and spotted his luggage.  She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words, swallowing thickly as her heart sank at the reason for his early morning visit.  “I was just coming to find you,” she finally managed.

“You were?”  The growing hope was evident in his eyes.

“If it isn’t my favorite murderers,” interrupted an all-too-familiar voice.  Clara felt panic rising, not wanting to turn around and see the ghost of Harold Saxon.

Behind the Doctor a black shape fluttered to the ground.  _Kraa!_


	11. To Break a Curse

Amy's breathing quickened as she watched Harry's ghost take shape in the room.  She'd managed to sleep through the night, but she wasn't ready to deal with him again just yet. 

"What is that?" the Doctor asked, looking past Clara and into the room. 

"That's a ghost," her sister answered honestly. 

"Right," was his blunt response. 

Amy ran forward, her ankles bending awkwardly as she did so.  Movement shouldn't be this hard.  He took so much from her and not just in the past day.  Months of her life had been snatched away without her noticing, but she wouldn't let him take anymore.  Her fingers wrapped around Clara's wrist and she tugged, pulling her sister from the door.  The sound of the raven croaking once more caught her attention and she watched it take flight behind the Doctor as he stepped further into the house, following the woman who had dreamt of him for years. 

The raven was here for him.  Rory had told her that the raven woke Clara up that morning to warn her of the impending death of her love.  The best thing the Doctor could do was run.  Why did he follow?  Amy wasn't sure running could even save him, but it was a better bet than willingly entering a house with a known angry ghost. 

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as Amy pulled Clara from the room.  "You can't escape." 

A quick glance behind her told her that the Doctor was still following along with Rory, Sarah Jane, and Donna.  Harry was right, they couldn't really get away.  He didn't have the limitations of a physical being; they couldn't simply hide.  She needed to think.  There had to be a way to stop him again, buy them more time until they're prepared. 

As she entered the kitchen, she found her thoughts were still scattered.  Clara pulled her hand free and stepped up to the kitchen window.  "The raven, it's followed us." 

"Raven?" the Doctor asked. 

"From our family curse, here to announce the death of whomever dared to love a Ravenwood," Donna explained.  When silence followed in the next second she added, "Oh, so _now_ you don't deny our family is cursed?" 

Sarah Jane huffed.  "There's no point in starting a debate when there is a very likely chance he could die within the next hour." 

"Die?"  His face was one of complete disbelief. 

"You're not going to die," Clara assured him, her voice and stance full of a hard determination.  "I won't allow it."  She slipped her hand in his as a familiar figure emerged from the wall. 

"So you retreat the kitchen?"  Harry taunted.  "The very room you _murdered_ me in." 

"Oh, it was self defense," Amy threw back at him.  She wasn't around much to witness her sister mourning Danny, but she remembered the aching that would wake her up at night, the sadness that radiated from the scar on her palm.  Protecting her family meant protecting the Doctor as well.  "You tried to kill me first." 

"And I _will_ kill you now," the ghost replied.  His hand curled around the hilt of a knife, trying to grab it, but only passing through. 

Amy smirked.  "Still haven't figured out the basics, then."  The advantage was still theirs.  So long as he didn't try to possess anyone again – his only trick so far – they had a little bit more time to come up with a plan.  He tried another knife and another.  Nothing was working.  "Alright," she said, turning to address her aunts.  "What was that spell you mentioned?" 

"We're going to need more people," Sarah Jane told her. 

"What about your friends," Donna inquired.  "The ones that came over for dinner?" 

Amy was going to tell them _Sure, the others would probably help,_ but the distant sound of fast-paced footsteps caught her attention, breaking her thoughts.  Who else was in the house?  Then she remembered exactly who the other occupants were. 

Time seemed to slow down as she spun back around to face her dead boyfriend and would-be murderer.  His fingers curled around yet another knife hilt, the very knife her sister had plunged into his back and later bleached to erase all trace of his blood, and this time his fingers did not pass through. 

"Mom?" called the voice of the owner of one set of the distant footsteps.  _Celeste._  

"Mom?" Harry repeated, his eyes riveted to Clara.  "Isn't that interesting."  He held the knife up, staring at it curiously.  "I recognize this blade." 

Amy could see the way her sister was shaking despite her determined brave front.  And with it,  the Doctor's voice and following command did not surprise her in the slightest.  "Amy, get the girls out of here." 

"But—" Amy protested.  She couldn't protect all of them if she left the room. 

He didn't give her a chance to say anymore.  "Go!" he shouted, and how could she argue with him?  Her nieces were family too, and far more important to her sister than he was.  He turned from her, stepping between Harry and Clara, grabbing her sister's shoulder.  "Clara," he called, trying to break the shock she had slipped into amidst the all the variants of their situation. 

Amy was at the door when she heard Harry speak again, "Intriguing man you have there," he told her. 

Clara pushed the Doctor aside, stepping forward.  " _I_ am the one who killed you.  Your issue here is with _me."_ Slipping her hand into the Doctor's once again, she whispered just loud enough for Amy to catch it, "Run." 

Amy tore her gaze away, running to the foot of the stairs.  There she found Ashildr and Celeste standing and looking confused.  She kneeled down in front of them.  "Girls, I need you to listen to me." 

"Is this about the man from the garden?" Ashildr asked. 

"Yes," Amy confirmed.  "He is a very bad man and I need to keep you safe from him, okay?"  The girls nodded.  Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a place for them to hide.  He knew about them now, knew they were Clara's daughters, so their hiding place would have to be one he either couldn't know about or couldn't enter.  "Celeste, grab your sister's hand." 

The little girl did as she was told and Amy, grabbing Celeste's hand in turn, ran as fast as she could with the two girls behind her.  She pushed open the door of the store room, leading them to the back of it and letting go.  She opened a drawer, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for – a piece of chalk.  "Ashildr!" she called, getting the older girl's attention.  Tossing the piece of chalk to her, she instructed, "Draw a circle around you and your sister, then sit down and hold hands."  Turning back to the wall of supplies in front of her, she quickly stepped a little further back down the room, throwing open a cabinet door and pulling out a large jar of iron nails. 

Back in front of the girls, she pulled open the jar.  "I'm going to spread these around you.  Stay where you are and keep very quiet."  She ran a circle around them, pouring out the iron liberally.  It was makeshift, but it would protect them for a little while.  As she stepped back out the door, she poured the rest of the iron across the threshold, set the empty jar on the floor, and let the door fall closed again. 

Her nieces safe for the moment, Amy took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and figure out where her sister had gone. Running back to the kitchen, she found it deserted. There was a bowl of fruit on the floor with an apple sliced in half and a glass shattered across the floor. All of the knives remained untouched apart from the murder weapon which was unaccounted for. Her eyes anxiously scanned the room but she didn't find any blood. They'd made it safely out of the kitchen, she needed to believe that. 

But where would they have gone? 

A hand snatched around her wrist and Amy jerked backward, landing against the wall with a thud.  Looking up, she saw it was Donna.  "Where's Clara?" 

"She ran off," Donna answered.  "She's trying to hide the Doctor.  You and I both know she won't succeed." 

"You can't say that!" Amy snapped.  "We can't just give in like that." 

Donna nodded solemnly.  "I know.  Sarah Jane is with Rory right now, lest the curse turn its attentions on him as well.  But right now we need to find your sister.  Think.  Where would she have gone to hide?" 

Amy closed her eyes in concentration.  When she went to hide the girls, she took them to the store room because the amount of supplies there would enable her to protect them.  Her sister had spent more time in this house than she had, more time around the aunts and their practice.  She would make a similar decision, possibly backed by more knowledge.  Suddenly, Amy knew exactly where Clara had run.  "She's in the greenhouse." 

"Right, then we need to go there." 

"But what are we going to do?  We need to stop him _now._ " 

Donna shook her head.  "Aside from trying to protect ourselves for moments at a time, I don't know.  He needs to be contained and ghosts are very hard to contain.  But right now we need to aid your sister." 

Amy took her aunt's hand and the two ran as quickly as they could to the greenhouse, Amy hoping they wouldn't stumble upon the scene of a tragedy.  Just through the doors, they didn't spot anyone.  Hearing a bird croak, she looked around but didn't see any bird through any of the windows.  Still, she knew it was the raven, feared its call as Ravenwood women had for centuries.  "They're nearby, they must be."  They needed a plan, some way to defeat him.  "I have an idea.  You should go get Sarah Jane.  You said ghosts are hard to contain, so we'll probably need every witch we can get." 

Donna blinked at her, uncertain.  "Are you sure you want to go in here alone?" 

"No, but like I said, I have a plan." 

"Alright," her aunt nodded.  "I'll be back in a few minutes." 

Alone again, Amy made her way carefully through the large greenhouse.  Donna had said Harry needed to be contained, but that it was difficult to do so.  Amy could only think of one containment that had worked so far, she just needed to make sure it was more secure this time.  More binding.  Harry was her problem and she wasn't about to let him destroy her family. 

Morning glory.  She needed morning glory, and her eyes ran over all the flowers climbing along the walls in search of it as her footsteps picked up.  She could hear her sister's voice now; they were close.  A blue flower caught her attention and she rushed to it, leaning up to pull away a whole piece of the vine. 

Flower in hand clutched tightly to her chest, she launched into a full run until she spotted the Doctor ahead of her.  "Doctor!" she called.  "Is Clara with you?" 

He looked up, clearly startled by her appearance.  "Yeah, she's right over here." 

Amy was finally able to glimpse her sister who also seemed to be in search of something.  "Found it!" Clara announced, her hand pulling up a bunch of angelica.  She spun around and caught sight of her.  "Amy?" 

"I have a plan," Amy told her, trying to smile in assurance.  "I think I can stop—" 

_Kraa_  

The bird drowning out the rest of her sentence, Amy glanced at the window and saw it sitting there, watching them patiently.  "I've found you, at last," came Harry's voice. 

Morning glory in hand, Amy was ready for him.  But when she turned to look at him, she found he had entered the greenhouse right beside the Doctor.  He glided along the floor, the blade of his knife sparkling in the sunlight that drifted in through the glass roof.  "Amy?" she heard Sarah Jane call.  "Clara?" 

Amy barely heard her aunt, her attention glued to the sight in front of her as her feet led her forward taking over her body as her fear and anxiety gripped her mind.  She wouldn't be fast enough. 

In an instant Clara was in front of her, blocking off as much of the view as her height would allow.  Amy watched as her sister shoved the angelica into the Doctor's hands and pushed him away as hard as she could.  Harry's movements didn't slow and Amy watched as the knife sunk into her sister's back. 

"Clara!" Amy screamed as her feet continued carrying her forward.  She didn't miss the surprise in Harry's face and she opened her arms, the blue flowers in one hand, and wrapped them around him in an embrace.  As she closed her arms and brought them to herself, she pushed him in until it was just her hands that touched her chest, the flowers pressed against the fast beat of her heart. 

Harry was nowhere in sight, but she could feel him raging inside her.  Legs giving way, she fell to the floor, kneeling in front of her sister's limp body and reaching out to her with the hand that wasn't holding the flowers. 

"The raven," Donna whispered in shock. 

"It dissolved, it's gone," Sarah Jane finished. 

"The Doctor is still alive," Donna continued.  "Which means the curse.  It's broken." 

Amy hadn't seen it happen, but as the Doctor fell to the floor on the other side of Clara, his hands helplessly clutching at the body and tears streaming down to match her own, she could only think that it was too late. 

"Amy?" she heard Rory call for her, his hand suddenly on her back in a gesture of comfort, but she couldn't even look at him, couldn't tear her eyes away from her sister.  This was all her fault. 

"Bring her back," the Doctor said calmly in spite of his tears. 

"I can't," Amy barely managed to reply.  She had seen what that spell could do and she wouldn't do that to her sister. 

"Bring her back," the Doctor repeated. 

She tried to shake her head, but her whole body was trembling now.  It felt like Harry was tearing at her insides in his effort to escape.  "It isn't possible." 

"It might be," Sarah Jane said.  She kneeled in front of Amy, her eyes serious.  "Who performed the spell that resurrected Harry?" 

"We both did," Amy answered, confused. 

"As I suspected."  Sarah Jane took a deep breath before proceeding.  "You are both responsible for bringing about this vengeful spirit and you will _both_ need to send him back." 

"But how?" she asked, her tears growing into sobs.  "That spell won't bring her back, not really.  It will bring back something unnatural." 

"There's another spell," Donna said, joining her sister in Amy's view.  "But it's more dangerous.  We don't know of anyone who has ever succeeded." 

"Why isn't it in the book?" 

"Because it's what killed your mother," Donna answered.  "She couldn't bear your father's death and tried everything she could to bring him back.  Eventually she tried this spell.  She did it on her own without informing either of us.  We were afraid Clara would use it to try to save Danny, so we hid it when he died.  The problem with the spell that you tried on Harry is that it's too easy.  You can't expect magic to bring someone back from the dead unless you are willing to give your own life as well." 

"Which means," Sarah Jane continued.  "That someone has to be willing to go to wherever Clara is right now to bring her back, and they have to be willing to take the risk that they might fail and be trapped there with her.  We've never heard of anyone making it back." 

"I'll do it," the Doctor said. 

"You have to be certain," Sarah Jane warned. 

"I am certain." 

"The dreams," Amy remembered.  "Clara has dreamt about a specific man since we were children and I'm pretty sure it's him." 

"It is me," he confirmed.  "I've had the same dreams of her." 

"That's practically unheard of," Donna exclaimed.  "It's possible for people to have a dream about a future lover, but for those dreams to carry on for decades..." 

Sarah Jane picked up the thought, "And for both of them to have the dreams.  The prophecy... Whatever is the cause, he might actually be able to do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter I had dreaded writing since I first began this fic.


	12. In the Land of the Dead

Distantly, the sounds of the room registered in the Doctor's mind.  He could hear Clara's aunts busying about in preparation, Rory calling the school to let them know the Ponds won't be in, but all he really observed was the way Amy's arms shook as she held the of vine morning glory to her chest.  Her entire body seemed to shiver with the exhaustion of holding another spirit within it.  Amy saw him watching and smiled wryly.  "Clara and I always said we'd die on the same day.  Didn't think it would be today." 

He knew she was joking, but he could tell how scared she was of her own words, of how true they could turn out to be.  He looked down at Clara's body in his arms.  There was nothing peaceful about how she looked.  People always talk about the dead looking like they're sleeping, but she didn't appear that way at all.  This couldn't be how it ended.  He'd just found her, he wasn't ready to lose her yet.  "It won't be today," he told Amy.  "It can't be."  The thought of what they were about to do overwhelmed him.  It may very well be today.  They had made it very clear that he might not survive this.  Perhaps all three of them would die. 

"Ready?" Donna asked him and Amy. 

He couldn't find his voice and had resolved to nod when Amy answered first.  "Why can't one of you do it?  You're better at this than me." 

"The Doctor is the best candidate to retrieve her, but even if he was a witch who could perform this spell without assistance, it's safer if he has a guide," Sarah Jane replied.  "You're right, Donna or I could do it, but you are Clara's sister and your bond with her is stronger.  The only people closer to her are her daughters, but they aren't ready for this level of magic.  So tell us now, can you do this?"  Amy stared at her aunt for several seconds before nodding gravely. 

Donna then turned to the Doctor.  "You'll be in the spirit realm.  Amy will be tied to you and will do her best to guide you, but you'll largely be on your own.  If you need to come back for whatever reason, whether because you have Clara with you or because you need to be rescued, you need to let Amy know and she will pull you out.  But you have to want it.  Do you understand?" 

"Yes," he finally managed to say. 

Sarah Jane then addressed him.  "Clear your mind.  Think only of Clara and how much you want her back."  He looked down at Clara's body again, ignoring the rest of the room and filling his thoughts with her.  He remembered meeting her at the diner, walking with her through the museum.  The first time they kissed and the night that followed.  Holding her in his arms, moving inside her.  His thoughts sank even deeper, falling into his dreams.  Her grief as a widow, waking up to the cries of her newborn daughter, running through the forest as a child.  He had sketched them all.  Tears on a letter to her sister, blurry eyes and dark hallways, the feeling of moss underfoot and inhaled with the fog. 

His head felt heavy and he didn't fight it, keeping his thoughts trained on her and letting his body slump down, his head lay on her chest.  The way she looked in moonlight, half in darkness.  Catching a glimpse of her at the motel.  Following her sister and the offending bottle of tequila into the kitchen. 

The noise around him ceased and the softness of her body disappeared.  He opened his eyes to find he was alone.  No Amy, no Rory, no aunts.  Clara's body was nowhere in sight.  A quick glance around the room told him that everything was exactly the same except it was cast in a soft, orange glow like sunset, despite it only being around half past six in the morning.  He stood up off the floor, walking cautiously out of the greenhouse and back inside their home. 

He could hear voices coming from the front of the house and headed in their direction.  As he got closer he could make out that they belonged to children, likely Celeste and Ashildr.  Walking around the bottom of the stairs, he spotted them, but instead of Ashildr, he recognized the dark-haired young girl as Clara when she was little, making the redhead next to her Amy.  "Clara?" he called, but she didn't appear to hear him. 

They were talking about something, but he couldn't quite make out the words, like they were speaking a language he didn't recognize.  He stepped forward, reaching out to her, but his hand passed through her shoulder like passing through smoke. 

Suddenly, they disappeared.  He didn't have even a moment to look for them before he heard their voices again and turned around to see them at the top of the stairs.  "I can't wait to fall in love," Amy said, her face filled with awe. 

Clara's face was more of a grimace, clearly put off by whatever phantom she could see that he couldn't.  "I hope I never do." 

They disappeared again and he raced up the stairs to search for them.  The sound of their distant voices brought him to the second story, to a room at the side of the house that overlooked the garden.  "You don't meant that," he heard Clara say.  Once in the room he could see them.  They were teenagers now and Amy stood near the balcony door with a packed bag. 

"I just," Amy said.  "I don't want to get stuck here.  I want to see the world!  I want to go somewhere no one knows us or our family." 

He caught Clara glance at a book on her nightstand before saying, "I feel like I'm never going to see you again." 

Amy unzipped a pocket on her bag and pulled out a knife.  "Here," she said, approaching Clara.  She dragged the knife across her own palm and he watched the blood pool along its path.  "My blood..."  Grabbing her sister's hand, she dragged the knife along Clara's palm as well.  He winced, feeling his own hand sting, but when he looked down, there wasn't even a faint scratch.  "Your blood," Amy finished.  The two girls held their palms together and entwined their fingers.  "It'll always be you and me.  We'll see each other again.  We'll grow old together.  I bet we even die on the same day." 

After a moment, Amy retrieved her own and hand slipped through the balcony doors.  They disappeared just as she slipped over the railing.  He ran to the balcony, looking down over a darkened garden, a strange nighttime with an orange glow.  He didn't see any Amy or Clara down there and he didn't hear anymore voices. 

Why was he seeing these things?  Was this Amy as his guide?  What was she trying to tell him?  He turned around, leaning against the railing to think.  He looked down at his hand where a dull throb of the phantom pain still resided. 

 _I hope I never do,_  Clara had said.  She never wanted to fall in love.  He remembered the conversation Amy had with her aunts.  Their mother had died for love, died trying to save their father.  Clara had died trying to save him and he was repaying her by taking the same risk her mother had. 

But he couldn't give up now, he couldn't leave without her.  She didn't want to fall in love, but she seemed made for it.  He saw how she cared for her family and friends, he had felt her love in his dreams for years.  Where could she be now? 

He spun around and placed his hands on the railing.  There was no wind, everything seemed so still.  The leaves didn't rustle and there weren't any birds.  Somewhere around him was Clara, somewhere in the house or beyond it.  His eyes searched the garden for any sign of her, but he didn't see anyone down there at all.  But then something did catch his eye, something that was there when it shouldn't be, he would have remembered seeing it before.  In the garden, near the roses, was a solitary gravestone. 

He hopped back into the bedroom, planning on rushing down the stairs.  A thought made him pause and he turned to the nightstand.  Walking up to it, he lifted the book he'd seen the teenage Clara look at earlier.   _101 Places to See._ He flipped backward through the pages, glimpsing different entries of places around the world.  At the front of the book he stopped, staring down at a single autumn leaf tucked in between the end papers. 

He stuck the book under his arm, making his way out of the room and onto the landing where he'd seen the girls as children only minutes ago.  There were no children now, no ghostly visions guiding his way.  He heard no voices, no sound of disturbance.  No dust moved through the air.  He didn't know how anyone could bear it, how anyone could willingly choose this over living.  More than that, he feared there was something more to the place, something he didn't understand.  He did not want to understand it. 

Pulling open the door, he looked outside.  No sun shown down upon him, just that same orange glow that filled everything that wasn't shadow in this place.  His steps slowed as he entered the garden.  The flowers all were dry like paper, like they had never been alive and blooming in the first place.  He swallowed thickly, unsure if he should go on.  There were intangible children, this gravestone likely wasn't left as a clue by Amy.  Could it be a trap or did it lead him where he needed to go?  Finally, he stepped before the gravestone itself and read it. 

Eleana Ravenwood Pond 

Beloved Wife and Mother 

Born 

11th September 1960 

Died 

5th March 1992 

Their mother?  Why was her tombstone here at the house?  Why would it move here in this otherworld? 

The sound of crunching leaves broke his thoughts and he snapped his head up, his eyes searching for the intruder.  The shape was just a shadow at first, its edges becoming more firm as it got closer to him, though the more its face became solid, the more he could tell that the figure wasn't looking at him.  They probably didn't even realize he was there. 

They were almost directly behind the tombstone when he see the widest part of the outline as a black dress.  A veil covered the face and black shoes trod upon the leaves.  The clothes of mourning.  The figure looked up at him and he finally saw the unmistakable brown eyes, the shape of a jaw he could trace in his sleep.  Clara looked, unseeing, in his direction from behind her mother's grave. 


	13. 101 Places to See

Her fingertips tapped along the gray stone, mostly smooth but roughened in some areas due to all it had weathered over the years. Her mother's gravestone. It had stood more than twenty years, beside a similar stone for her father, in a cemetery that she had visited as often as she could.

Now it stood outside her family's house.

It hadn't been there before. As she felt the decaying stone, its touch exactly the same as it had been, she observed everything else around her. Everything was drenched in a dim, orange light. When she looked down she saw there was a thin bank of fog that drifted across the ground, lifting high enough to just cover her ankles.

She never thought it would look like this. Death. The spirit realm. Isn't that where she was? Where was everyone else? Harry should be here at the very least, despite his ability to walk in the world of the living, he was still tied to this place.

"Clara?"

A voice snapped her from her thoughts and she looked in front of her, seeing the Doctor standing there expectantly. She had always heard that the spirit realm could be a confusing place, perhaps she should have seen this coming. She searched her mind for some way to respond to this apparition. "So what's this, the welcoming party?"

The figure before her looked confused by her words. _Party?_ he mouthed. "Clara, it's me."

She swallowed thickly, her eyes stinging with holding back tears. Could she even cry here? "I don't have time for this," she sighed. Turning around, she spotted another figure, but this one's face was hidden. "So who are you then?" she asked, somewhat annoyed by the sudden games she'd found herself in. Stepping forward, she reached for the helm of the veil that hid their identity. She pulled it up, but then stepped quickly back with a gasp. "Mother?"

"Clara," Ellie responded with a smile. "It's so wonderful to see you." Her mother pulled her into a tight hug that Clara barely managed to get her arms to return in her surprise. "Though I had been hoping to wait a little longer."

"It's really you?" Clara wasn't sure she could believe it, her mother had been gone so long.

 “Oh, Clara.”  Her mother’s fingers slid across her right cheek.  They felt solid.  They didn’t have a temperature.  Clara realized then a new strangeness to this place – there didn’t seem to be any temperature here at all.  She didn’t feel too warm, didn’t feel a breeze against the back of her neck, didn’t breathe in any humidity.  The stillness sank further than she’d expected.  “I looked forward to seeing you again so much, but not like this.”

Her mother had a point.  How had she ended up here?  She was still young.  Her mother had been young too.  “I’m sorry,” she cried out, half a sob.  “I didn’t mean to…”  Her mind raced through the events leading up to her death.  What could she have done differently?  There were so many choices leading to this.  She chose to respond to her sister’s plea for help, she chose to defend her, to go along with her insane plan to get out of going down for murder.  She chose to bury the body in her own garden and keep it a secret from everyone.

And the Doctor.  His figment still waited behind her.  She chose to fall in love when she knew the consequences.  She chose to let him in to satiate her own curiosity.  And when the raven came for him, she chose to save his life.  So many decisions, and looking back, she knew that given a second chance, she wouldn’t choose differently.  She wouldn’t choose her own life over Amy’s or the Doctor’s.  “There wasn’t any other way,” she finally told her mother. 

“And yet,” her mother responded.  “It was not your time.  That raven came for the Doctor, not you.  You were meant to live on.”  Clara shook her head.  “I’m not trying to scold you, Clara.”  She pulled her into a hug, and when she leaned away again, Clara saw her gaze was fixed on an object behind her.  “But while you’re here, there are some people I would like you to meet.”

Clara watched as several shadows began emerging from the darkness of the wood and gain features as they approached her.  Almost all of them were woman and they wore a variety of clothing, some of it hundreds of years old.  “Hello, Clara,” a young woman with dark hair said.  “I’m Victoria.”  The woman chuckled at the confused look on Clara’s face.  “Victoria Ravenwood.”

“You’re my ancestor?”

The woman nodded, smiling.  Another one stepped up to her, this one fiercer in appearance.  “My name is Leela.”  Clara shook her hand, dumfounded.  They each in turn introduced themselves.  There was the fair-haired and proper Romana, the short-haired and slightly amused Barbara, an assertive woman named Mel, and an excited woman named Grace.  There were so many of them; Zoe, Peri, Ace, Jo, Tegan.  There were a few men too, a man named Ian that held Barbara’s hand, a man that seemed to hover almost protectively around Victoria, named Jamie.  This was her family, the Ravenwood coven.

From the throng emerged another woman.  She was small and had very short hair.  Clara had never seen any pictures of her, no depictions of her appearance, yet she knew who this woman was upon seeing her simply because there was one person who had yet to introduce themselves, one with a very important name.  “You’re Susan, aren’t you?”

Susan nodded.  She took one of Clara’s hands in both of hers.  “It’s an honor to meet you, proof of our family’s ability to withstand so much over the centuries.  It’s strange though, that you are what I feared so long ago.”  Clara’s eyebrows raised in question.  “The Ravenwood Prophecy,” Susan clarified.  “I went to great lengths to prevent it, but here you are, tearing down my work.”

“Well, your plan worked, if in a way you didn’t expect.”  Clara shrugged her shoulders.  “I’m dead.  Crisis averted.”

Susan shook her head and glanced over Clara’s shoulder.  “You weren’t meant to die, it can be undone.”

“Death can’t be undone,” Clara corrected, but she followed her ancestor’s gaze to the figure of the Doctor standing behind her.  What did Susan mean?  He wasn’t even real, just a product of this place.  “Amy knows better than to use the spell we used on Harry.”

“There is another way,” Susan explained.  “But it must be your choice.  The curse is broken now, there are no safeguards preventing the prophecy from coming true.  But without you, your sister will die, and likely the rest of our family as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Clara,” the figure behind her spoke up.  She felt his hand on her arm, his fingers were warm.  “I’m really here.  I’ve come to bring you home.”

Clara spun around to face him.  “What?  How?”

“It’s a lot to explain.  The point is, they need you.”  He lifted her hand, his fingers tracing the scar along her palm.  “Amy needs you.  I need you.”

“Clara, my daughter,” Ellie said.  “I am here because of a choice I made, because I couldn’t leave your father.  And that’s a choice I regret making every day.”  She exchanged a look with the Doctor and held out one of her hands.  He reached under his other arm and took hold of a thin book, handing it over to her mother.  “I am here with your father, but I left you and your sister behind.”  She held the book out so Clara could see it.  “That was selfish of me, I should never have abandoned you two like that.”  Clara took the book from her mother, _101 Places to See._ “I’ve had that book since I was a kid.  Growing up I had planned to visit every single one of its destinations, and when I had you and Amy, I planned to take you with me.  I never did.”

Clara stared down at the cover.  Her plans had been the same.  She dreamed of visiting its pages with Ashildr and Celeste.  They’d already lost their father.  Were they to lose their mother as well?  She tried to wipe away her tears.  “I remember you reading this to me when I was little.”

“Few things are set in stone,” her mother told her.  “Prophecies have only the power that you give them.”  _Curses only have power when you believe in them.  And I don’t._

“Clara,” the Doctor said softly as his hand slid into hers, his palm pressing lightly against her scar.  “I’ll stay here with you if that’s what you really want, but if you want to leave, then we need to leave now.”

“We are your family,” Susan said.  “We will always be with you, with Amy, Donna, Sarah Jane, Ashildr, and Celeste.  This is your choice, and we will support you however you choose.”

Clara looked down at the book again and nodded.  “I have to help them.”

“We’ll meet again,” her mother almost whispered, kissing her head.  “Hopefully much later.”

Clara looked over her mother’s face again, at the faces of all of the Ravenwoods.  She felt the Doctor pull softly on her hand in restlessness, and nodded again, unsure if there was anything she could say to them that didn’t sound like goodbye.  After all, this wasn’t the end.  She looked up at the Doctor and found his eyes were already on her.  She met his gaze and smiled, suddenly feeling safer than she had in a long time.  “Let’s go.”  When she looked back at the woods in front of her, the spirits were all gone, leaving only the fog.

He looked up at the cloudy sky above them.  “Amy?  We’re ready.”  After a moment he looked back down at her.  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how this works.  They just said I need to let her know when to pull me out.”

“I doubt this spell has been done very often.  It’s probably harder to pull someone out of the spirit realm than they were hoping.”

“What should we do?”

“Did you perform the spell in the house?”

“Yes.”

“And where did you wake up?”

“In the same place where they cast the spell.”

“Then that must be where the bridge is strongest.”

He pulled her hand, leading her back up the stairs and into the house.  They ran through the corridors until they reached the very room that Clara had died in.  It remained as empty as it had been upon his arrival.  “This is it,” he told her.

She kneeled on the ground, pulling him down with her, their hands still firmly in one another’s.  She closed her eyes, trying to find some way to reach out to her sister, but found nothing.

“Amy, we’re ready,” he repeated.  Nothing happened.

“We need something stronger.”  She looked down at the book in her other hand.  It wasn’t the real book, that was still on her nightstand in the world of the living.  But this copy was significant somehow.  “How did you find this book?”

The Doctor looked down at it in her grasp.  “When I arrived here there were these… scenes playing out.  Scenes of you and Amy.  In one of them the two of you were teenagers and she seemed to be leaving.  You glanced at it and it seemed important to you somehow.”

Her mind raced for a meaning to his words.  They weren’t ghosts – Amy was still alive.  What could they be?  Amy wouldn’t have sent him in here with nothing, she would have tried to help him, give him some sort of trail to follow or hints for something.  If she had created the scenes from memory, then she wanted him to see that night – to see them making their pact and to see the book.

She set the book on the floor and flipped open the cover.  Right inside it was the large leaf from the day their parents met, or at least an exact replica created from Amy’s memory.  She held it up, her eyes tracing the path of the vein-like pattern.  “This leaf is our history.  The leaf of Ellie Ravenwood and the love of her life.  The leaf that tells the story of two people that would never have existed if not for everyone that came before them.  The leaf that brought Amy and me into the world, that allowed my daughters to be born.  Page One.”  She closed her eyes, focusing on the leaf, on the Doctor’s hand in hers.  His palm.  Her scar.  Amy’s scar.  She let go of the leaf, knowing that it remained suspended in the air where she left it.

The leaf.  His palm.  Her scar.  Amy’s scar.  _We are your family.  You weren’t meant to die._ Amy.  Ashildr.  Celeste.  Sarah Jane.  Donna.  Rory.  Martha.  Rose.  Mickey.  John.  The Doctor’s hand.  Amy’s scar.  Her scar.

She opened her eyes again and watched as the leaf began to disintegrate, the walls around it crumbling as well; the pieces drifting up and into nothingness.  The Doctor’s hand in hers began to feel lighter and she tightened her grasp.  It faded further and she grasped harder in panic, her hand curling around nothing.  The floor beneath her came apart.

She was laying on the floor and sat up quickly, coughing.  “Doctor!”

Hands grabbed her shoulders and a familiar face appeared before hers.  “I’m here, I’m here.”

She grabbed his cheek, sighing in relief before coughing again.  Looking around she found Amy kneeling next to her, smiling despite the obvious exhaustion.  Donna and Sarah Jane loomed above her, looking ecstatic.

“It worked,” Donna announced.  “I can’t believe it _worked._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bitter we haven't gotten to see Susan as an adult. Also still bitter that Jamie and Victoria were never reunited.


	14. Preparation

With Clara and the Doctor alive in front of her, Amy reached out to touch her sister, to confirm that everything really would be okay.  Before her hand could even go very far, she lurched back, feeling something coil tightly within her stomach, like a snake trying to strangle her insides.  “Okay,” she cried out through the pain.  “He’s doing something, I don’t know what.”

Donna leaned down beside her, inspecting her face.  “He can probably sense that Clara is back and I’m sure he knows we’re up to something, that his time is coming to an end.”

Clara looked up at them, her face full of worry.  “Well, what do we do?”

“We need to banish him,” Sarah Jane informed her.  “We need to force his spirit back into the grave.”

“We’re going to need a lot more people,” Donna added.  Turning to Clara she asked, “Is there anyone you know that would be willing to help?”

Clara nodded and Amy knew her sister was right.  They had friends, they wouldn’t be alone in this.  She watched as the Doctor stood and then helped Clara to her feet.  The two of them paused as they, and everyone in the room, stared at the blood on Clara’s shirt, the sharp reminder of what had passed only hours before.  Clara shook her head like she could shake off the weight of death and grief, and she walked quickly from the room full of prying eyes.

As she leaned forward, placing her feet on the floor, Amy felt a wave of nausea and sat back down.  She looked up at Rory, “Help me up.”

He nodded and extended his arm.  Latching on to it, the two of them worked up to pull her up to her feet.  The nausea followed her all the way to standing and she leaned her weight on his shoulder, hoping it would go away.  “Is there something you need Amy to do?” Rory asked the aunts, but Amy could detect something in his voice, something that dared them to respond with anything other than ‘no.’

Much to her relief, and Rory’s she suspected, Sarah Jane shook her head.  “Take her to the living room and let her lay down for a bit.  It’s important that she rest and regain her strength.”  Before they got the chance to follow the order, Sarah Jane stepped closer, her hands wrapping around Amy’s face.  “You are amazing, child.  You are so strong and you have done so well.”

At that, Rory helped Amy limp from the room, the morning glory held tightly in her fist.

~~~

Clara listened to the steady rhythm of her own feet tapping against the wooden floor as she tried to digest everything that had happened.  She had _died,_ she had met her own ancestors – something she had yet to tell her family – and now she was alive again with the chance to finally rid her house of the very spirit that had killed her and ruined her sister’s life.  It was still too much for her to take in.

As she passed the store room something stopped her.  She wasn’t sure what it was, a sound, a shift in the air, a feeling, but she knew that there was something waiting for her in there.  Stepping back a couple of steps, she turned the door handle slowly, peaking the room, prepared for any sort of trap or surprise.  As the door pushed open, she heard the sound metal scraping the floor and looked down to see a line of nails, screws, and other iron objects.  The door open enough, she glanced up and saw Ashildr and Celeste sitting next to each other in the center of a circle made of more iron.  Caution forgotten, she threw the door open the rest of the way and rushed into the room.  Her daughters hopped up and stepped over the barrier of the circle, running to her.  “Mom!” Celeste exclaimed.  “You’re okay.”

“Of course I am, darling,” Clara whimpered as she held her daughters close to her in a tight embrace.  “I’m here and I’m fine.”

“What about the bad man?” Ashildr asked.

Clara leaned back so she could see their faces, and under the relief she could see the fear they were trying to hide.  “We’re going to get rid of him,” she answered.  “But first, I have to make a few phone calls.  So come on, let’s get you out of this room.”  Taking another look around, she added, “We’ll clean this up later.”

She led them out and through the house, heading up the stairs to her bedroom where her phone was.  The girls sat down on the bed as she fetched her phone from the nightstand.  Pacing, she scrolled through her contacts until she reached one of the ones she was looking for.  It rang for a moment until someone on the other end picked up.  “Hello?” came a voice.

“Martha!” Clara breathed a sigh of relief that her friend picked up.  “I have a bit of a favor to ask.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if Mickey’s spoken to you about what happened yesterday, and if he hasn’t, don’t blame him, it hasn’t been a great few days.”

“Okay, I’m a little concerned now.”

Clara took a deep breath.  “Remember all that weird stuff that happened at the dinner party?  And the man Ashildr said she saw that the rest of us couldn’t?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, the man Ashildr saw was a ghost.  The ghost of Amy’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one Mickey’s been looking for?”

“Uh, yeah.  We kind of killed him?”

“How do you kind of kill someone?”

“Okay, we killed him, but it was self-defense.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and Clara hoped she hadn’t pushed Martha away.  “Does Mickey know all of this?  Because otherwise it isn’t fair to me—”

“Mickey knows, and it wasn’t nice how he found out.  The thing is, Harry’s spirit won’t leave Amy or the rest of us alive.  He actually… He hurt me pretty badly and I’m afraid of what he’s going to do to Amy.”

“So what do you need?” Martha asked.

“You still want to help?”

“Clara, we’ve been friends since we were four.  I trust you.  You and Amy need my help, and I’m willing to give it.”

“That’s, that’s good, thank you.”  Clara took another breath.  “We need as many people as we can get to help us with a spell to banish his spirit.”

“When?”

“Tonight, if possible.”

“Alright, count me in.  I was going to be meeting up with a couple of women from work this evening, but I’m sure I can convince them to come along.”

“Oh, good, thank you so much.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Clara.”

“See you tonight.”

The call ended and Clara scrolled down to the name that immediately followed Martha’s.  “Mickey?” she asked as soon as the ringing ended.

“Hey, Clara.”

“I know you left as soon as possible yesterday, but I need to ask you a favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“Amy has Harry’s ghost under control for now, but we need more people to help us banish him.  Can you help?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to help.”

Clara paused, wondering if there was any way she could convince him.  “Yesterday was difficult, and it got worse this morning.  But I think we’re close.  The aunts have a plan and Amy has managed to keep him trapped for a whole day now.  He’s hurting her and he… he stabbed me this morning—”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.  Well, I wasn’t fine, but I am now.  We’re going to do the spell tonight and then he will be gone.  He won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”

“How am I going to be able to help?”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re my friend and he’s a pretty horrible guy, I wouldn’t be that good of a friend or a cop if I didn’t say yes.  And I’ve got the feeling Martha has already agreed to help you.”

“Thank you.  And yes, she has.”

“But keep in mind, the two of you have put me in a difficult position.  It’s my responsibility to turn you in.”

“I know, and once this is over you can turn me in if you want to, but please, just come by tonight and help us.  You won’t have to do much, just help the aunts out with whatever they tell you to say.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

Clara remembered her conversation with Martha.  “Oh, and one more thing.  If there’s anyone you trust with this, go ahead and bring them along as well.”

“Got it, I’ll see you then.”

One more call to make.  Clara scrolled a little further down until she found the name she was looking for.  “Clara!” Rose answered cheerfully.

“Hi, Rose, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?  You haven’t even heard what it is.”

“And I know you, you wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.  Watch, or rather, listen.”  There was the sound of a shuffle on the other end that Clara guessed was the phone moving away from Rose’s face.  “ _John_!” Clara heard her call at a distance.

“ _Yes_?” he answered, his response almost too far away for Clara to hear.

“ _Clara needs our help with something_.”

_“Yes,”_ he yelled back.

“See?” Rose spoke to her once more, giggling.  “What time do you need us?”

“This evening, probably around 7.  And honestly, you probably should know a little of what’s going on.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“Remember when I had to abruptly leave and get Amy?”

“Of course.”

“She was dating this really horrible guy.”

“Yeah, she mentioned something like that.”

“Well,” Clara hesitated.  “That guy is dead and now he’s haunting us.”

“Somehow I am not surprised.  This is your family after all.”

Clara considered telling her the whole story but decided to leave it there for now.  Telling Martha was risky enough, not because she didn’t trust them, but in the case this all comes crashing down around her, she didn’t want them to take the fall with her too.  “So tonight is a banishing spell and we just need as many hands on deck as we can get.  If there’s anyone you trust who can come tonight, you can invite them as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure my mother would love to come,” Rose responded with cheer.

“ _Jackie?”_ Clara heard John’s voice in the background.  “ _Really?”_

_“Yes,”_ Rose yelled to her husband.  “ _My mother will join us.”_ Speaking to Clara again, she added, “The three of us will be there tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Lots of love,” Rose finished before hanging up.

Clara put the phone back down and turned to her daughters.  “Why don’t we see if there’s anything for us to do downstairs.”

On their way to the living room, they passed the Doctor coming out of the store room.  “The aunts asked me to fetch candles,” he explained, holding up a box as evidence.  “But someone seems to have spilled a lot of nails in there.”

“That was Amy,” Celeste told him.  “She was trying to protect us.”

“Right,” he looked at her, puzzled.  Then realization dawned a little.  “Right.  Iron.”

The four of them entered the living room where Amy was laid out on a reclined armchair, looking miserable.  Rory sat by her side, full of worry as he dabbed at her forehead with a wet washcloth.  There was an unmistakable croaking sound that Clara searched for the source of.  Sarah Jane entered the room and Clara immediately got her attention.  “Is there anything the girls can do?”  It was time, she decided, that she fully allowed them to learn about their heritage.

Sarah Jane stared at her for a moment before answering.  “The spirit is apparently producing toads around Amy for fun.  It would be helpful if the girls could collect them.”

“Ooh,” Celeste said at the prospect.

Sarah Jane addressed the two young girls.  “But make sure you release them on the other side of the fence.”  She turned back to her niece.  “Can you help the Doctor set up the room?”

“Of course,” she replied, knowing full well that a year ago she might not have given the same answer.  “But I forgot something upstairs.”  Turning back to the stairwell, Clara thought about what she intended to grab from her room, hoping that it would help them.


End file.
